The Sands of Morpheus
by Experimental Madness
Summary: The desert hid her well; not dead, but alive Marian must travel back to Nottingham with the aid of Will, Djaq, and a roving band of players led by a mysterious woman who seems to know more about their quest then first assumed.
1. Lies in the Sand

SURPRISE! I still have quite a few stories left in me to tell. For some reason my inspiration to write RH fic has yet to dry up and I doubt it will for quite some time. This story is quite different from Northern Star or The Storyteller for reasons probably best left unexplained for now. I know that I put supernatural down as one of the genres for this fic. Don't let that deceive you it isn't really about magic.....or is it? You'll just have to read and find out.

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ROBIN HOOD! But, oh, if I did...**

**Notes: This is AU. For reasons you are about to discover.**

**More Notes: ANOTHER OC FIC? Yup. Guy can never have too many women; and although it breaks Bryony's and Lynna's dear little hearts....there is yet another woman coming to join them in their OC ranks. Cue the ensuing cat-fight. XD Now without further rambling, enjoy the new story, all! **

* * *

_Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning  
For my forever painful love:  
Just blow out candles' burning  
And let my dreams in blessing move.  
Let from my soul disappear  
The separation's sharp rebuke!  
And let me see that dear look,  
And let me hear voice that dear.  
And when will vanish dark of night  
And you will free my eyes at leaving,  
Oh, if my heart would have a right  
To lose its love till dark of evening!_

_~**Morpheus; Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin**_

I

Lies in the Sand

The desert is alive and all who live and travel across it will tell you it moves with the force of a living being. It protects, it shields and it is capable of love in its purest form. It holds secrets and whispers them back to the lonely wanderer if they care to listen. In the night it grows cold with loneliness and it stares up to the moon as if yearning to take a little of that light for its own. The desert breathes, and sighs, and moans, and sees sights that no mortal does.

The desert also lies. It does not betray, but it protects those who seek shelter in its sandy arms. Its rough embrace is harsh, but strong. The desert moved that night under the crescent moon. Grains of sand tumbled down small dunes and shook like the mane of a great and hidden lion.

Arms reached down into the sand and pulled forth a hidden treasure. The wooden casket was simple but inside was another matter. With the lid removed a drop of life was poured into the casket's contents. There was silence as the desert howled in anticipation. It's moans were met with a great, loud gasp. The desert grew still; one of its secrets revealed.

"C-c-c-cold." A voice whimpered to the desert.

"Lie still." Came a soothing voice, a voice which the desert recognized as one of its children.

"H-h-hurts..." The first voice whispered.

"Do you know who I am?" The desert voice asked.

There was silence again before an answer arrived. "Y-y-yes..."

"That is well." A blanket was given to the trembling form in the casket. "I am going to move you now."

There came a great cry as the desert child lifted the secret from the casket; exerting great effort in the process. "Be brave, my friend; we shall be home soon."

"Robin!" The voice said with another cry before going limp as it faded into a sweet unconsciousness.

The desert child traveled away from the sight of the burial ground. The sand shifted beneath her feet as if giving way to let her pass. The night air was chill and she only wore a simple cloak for protection; but the desert seemed to recognize its own and let the woman travel unharmed and undisturbed.

The night city was peaceful. There were lamps in windows still burning and aglow. Soldiers in ally ways that were to be avoided; but the woman steered away from danger. The bundle in her arms was heavy and troublesome to hold, but precious in its value. The desert does not give up its treasures easily, this was a secret which must survive.

Her footsteps were growing slower and sluggish. The night was getting colder as it grew deeper into darkness. Home would be an oasis; home would be a paradise. There was a lamp still aglow in the second story window. The lamp was for her to guide her back where she belonged like a lost dove in flight.

The woman carried her burden to the doorstep and knocked three times: twice in quick succession and once more after counting out four beats. The door opened, light fell upon her and she could already feel its warmth reach down into her bones. Even the treasure in her arms shuddered to it and seemed to sigh in slight comfort.

"She is alive?" The man in the doorway asked quietly.

"Just. She has slept well; though and the draught to slow her heart stilled the bleeding. I must work quickly." The woman said as she came into the warm glow.

"The bed is prepared." The man relieved her of her burden and carried the treasure into the next room.

It was a simple room, with two lamps on either side and a small cot near the corner wall. A basin of warm water and a basket of cloths were already positioned next to the bed. Needle and string also sat waiting and a satchel containing herbs and medicine was strung up on a small stake over the bed.

The man lay the treasure down upon the cot. The woman eased up; head lolling to one side in pain and exhaustion.

"Will she live?" The man asked.

"I have already told Robin she died once to save her life. I will not see my efforts wasted this night." The desert child said fiercely. "She will live for me and my promise alone, if anything."

"Work your magic, my love." The man said kissing her partially to comfort her and partially to ease his own anxiety.

"There is no magic in medicine only bandages and hope." The woman replied. "Leave me to it, Will."

"I am just beyond the door if you need me." Will replied.

"It will be a long night." The woman warned.

"As long as you are awake I will be as well." Will said stubbornly, shutting the door as he left.

The woman sighed and turned to her patient whose eyelids fluttered between a state of dreaming and of wakefulness. The desert child placed a hand upon her shoulder. "If you can hear me. Be brave yet. This will be painful for you and I have nothing to ease it."

"When has...pain....scared me...Djaq?" The woman said in between great heaving gasps.

"Indeed. What was I thinking in warning you?" The desert woman, Djaq, said with a smile. She began to cut away at the cloth surrounding the great wound near the woman's belly.

Congealed blood covered most of the wound, and Djaq had to dab at it with a wet cloth to loosen the crusting areas. She had to work fast; the draught she had given the woman to slow her heart beat for a time was no longer viable. As the heart pumped at full force so the blood would begin to flow again. And the wound was now lying open.

Once the dried blood was wiped, Djaq stuck two of her fingers into the open wound. She felt for the damaged flesh and torn entrails. She could feel the gash upon her stomach like the ripped seam of cloth. Needle now in hand she battled with the blood and life force of the woman to close the wounds inside her first, a knowledge only known to some of the desert's own, another secret hidden from the world.

The woman, at first tried to stifle her screams of pain, but it became impossible. Her very insides were aflame as she felt the needle pierce the sensitive flesh of her insides. It seemed never ending and when she could no longer stand the pain she felt as if her very soul left her to drift about beyond in a restful place away from the biting pain of the needle.

Where Djaq's world swam in blood and red the other woman drifted on a plane of gray and black. She saw a man in green with a bow slung on his back and a merry glimmer in his eyes. She saw love there and home. She would get back to him. She felt that burn in her more than the pain of the needle. And there was another man in her mind's eye. Clothed as black as night and as dark as hell. He wore a sword at his side and his eyes were clouded in anger and hate. Color swirled before her; pain and loss and disappointment surrounded him. Her hatred went deeper then she thought, he nearly took her life and love away from her; but her guilt went deep as well; deep as the needle closing the wounds inside.

Someone else wandered the darkened plains of her soul. There was a woman shrouded in mist. Her back was turned towards her and she could not see her face. She wore a gray hood and she stood tall and solemn against the mist. She heard words in her head, but there was no voice. _Do you know me?_

And she was back. With a gasp she let out a healthy scream. Djaq was sewing the outside of her wound together now. She felt a soothing salve rubbed along the tattered skin and she sighed. It cooled the fire there and brought her relief from pain.

"And now you may sleep a while." Djaq said, rubbing the sweat from her own brow as she cinched her satchel closed.

"Will I...wake?" The woman asked.

"I do not know." Djaq said and she seemed to be concealing a sob.

The woman sighed, but winced as the breath stung the stitches within. "I saw Robin..."

"You will see him again, yet." Djaq replied soothingly.

"Where is...he?" The woman said, her breath hitching in her throat as she swallowed another wave of agony.

Djaq paused. Should she tell her that he was bound back to England? That she had lied, and given her up for dead in order to buy her time so that she might be healed later? The desert howled beyond the window, blowing the lamp light about so that the shadows danced around like guardian angels, watching the wounded woman in her labored breathing. _Not yet_. The desert seemed to breathe; _not yet_.

"He is near." Djaq whispered, "And worried."

The woman coughed, winced in mid sighing-laughter and eased back upon the cot. "So typical of that man....should have known you could have saved me after all."

"Rest now, I will tell him that...that he need not worry for you." Djaq said with a watery smile. She stood up; her legs stiff and shaky as she had been resting on her knees for nearly an hour and a half in her efforts to save the woman's life.

"Djaq." The woman called out once more.

Djaq turned around again, gently, her calm eyes blinking in curious acknowledgement. The shadowy glow of the room hid the tears already falling from those kind and calculating eyes.

"Tell him I love him." The woman said.

"I will." Djaq said softly, fearing her voice would give way at any moment.

"And Djaq, thank you. I thought I truly was going to die...you have given me a second chance...both me and Robin....thank you..." She was fading into the stillness and comfort of the black sleep of the near dead. She said no more after that.

Djaq stood in silence for a moment before leaving the woman to her rest. She left the door to the room opened, as if this gave her comfort. There would be no rest of her tonight. She would come often to check on the injured woman; how could she sleep knowing that there was one who lay side by side with Death.

"How is she?" Will asked as she emerged from the room.

"On the edge." Djaq grunted, swatting at her eyes in irritation that they should be so damp.

"But she will live?" Will asked again, more nervous that previous.

"Pray to your God that she does, and I will pray to mine. That is all we can do for her now." Djaq whispered.

Will took Djaq into his arms, feeling her give way to her tears. She sobbed against him, drawing him close; in need of his warmth, in need of his comfort. "Have I done right?" She hissed through her tears. "I lied to her. I lied to Robin."

"But you saved her life." Will hushed, "That is redemption enough."

"There is no redemption for this lie. No amount of penance can undo what I have done." Djaq cried.

"Robin will forgive you once we bring her home." Will said, rocking her back and forth slowly.

"I will never forgive myself." Djaq said. "The look on his face when I said she was dead...." She shuddered in the horror of the memory.

Will was silent for a time; not knowing what else to say to comfort her. He let her cry out her tears and perhaps that was best. When there were no more tears left to be shed he spoke again, "You should rest as well, love. You said yourself, we have done all we can do."

"No. No I must not sleep. If she wakes in the night...I must be there." Djaq said, finally removing herself from Will's arms.

"Then I will stay with you." Will said adamantly.

"Why?" Djaq asked.

"Because you want me to, even if you won't admit it." Will said, kissing her cheek.

"You know me altogether too well, Will Scarlett." Djaq sighed, "Although I do not deserve it. I have separated a couple lately wed; is it fair you should still be beside me?"

"I would be here even if you weren't deserving." Will remarked. "But I wish you would not blame yourself for this."

"I could have done more. I could not have lied." Djaq said.

"And kept Robin and the others here where they would be in constant danger? My love, you did more than right in giving them purpose to leave back for England to fight the Sheriff and the Black Knights. Do not doubt yourself."

"I am full of doubt even when I am at my most surest." Djaq retorted. "Sit by me, Will. The night is fading fast."

They sat side by side upon the floor, their backs to the wall nearest the opening to the room were the woman lay sleeping. "The morning will be better." Will whispered to Djaq as she rested her head upon his shoulder. Djaq could not argue with him. The morning light would reveal things to her that the darkness of night would never dare to.

She stared mournfully into the dim room. Asleep, the injured woman was at peace, and for all of their sakes, Djaq prayed, she hoped her dreams were good ones.

***

The dreams of the dying are nearly as those of the dead, only the colors are muted and the sound is endlessly blank. The land is barren and there are no angels singing, only the constant silence. One could wander endlessly here for it is peaceful in its darkened way. One could forget where one was bound or where one has come from in the black silence.

Again there came a cloaked and hooded woman and she seemed to wander with purpose through the misting, perpetual night of the dreamscape. _You are lost_. She said without sound. _You would do well to turn around._

Here the injured woman was not in pain. She stared curiously at the hooded and faceless figure. "Who are you?" She asked aloud.

_Go home_. The hooded figure gestured wildly.

"Home is far and it is quiet here." The woman sighed, looking about, but not certain if she looked up or down.

_You will never get out if you stay._ The hooded figure seemed to say.

"You wander here." The woman insisted.

_I dream, and you are in it._ The hooded figure said.

"But surely this is my dream. You are not real." The woman gasped.

_Go home, or you will wander here forever._ The hooded figure seemed to be drifting away, but quickly she reached out and gave the woman a prod in her side. _Go home!_ She warned again, this time her jab was far more brutal and the woman winced.

_Go home!_ The words were still echoing in her head as the woman started awake with a sharp cry as fire raced through her abdomen, but Djaq was there, bathing her forehead with cool water. She heard her speak, but could not understand her words. Everything was on fire, her very bones were aching with a pain hitherto unknown to man. She closed her eyes and dreamed again.

This time there was no hooded woman or peaceful darkness. She felt as if she was adrift at sea. She could very nearly feel the wind upon her face as she rocked to and fro upon the prow of some great ship. A man stood out in the rain and his face was soaked from the rain, the sea spray, and tears. How she knew this she did not know, but she could feel sorrow radiate out of the man. The face of the man was beloved; she recognized it right away. "Robin!" she shouted.

The man did not turn. He remained stoic and staring out to sea, muttering something under his breath, his lips barely parting. "Marian...Marian..." over and over again, like a prayer, like a plea.

"I am here! I am here!" She wailed, arms outstretched.

But she wasn't there; for her dreams bore her on again, much like the raging winds sweeping the ship upon the open sea. She was back under the sands of the desert, sleeping in her coffin. She could hear a storm above rage as the sand swept along. The desert was burying her alive. The desert was keeping her secret. The desert seemed to hush her. It was singing a lullaby.

Her body throbbed in pain and she tossed and turned about in her little coffin. Half in a panic and half in an ever impatient quest for comfort and rest. She could hear herself crying out somewhere, but it was distant. She curled up, attempting to blot out the pain racing through her very soul.

_Marian...Marian_....

The cry came upon the wind of the desert. Tears fell down her face, "I am here..." she whispered brokenly, "I am here..."

And she slept at last in her little corner of life and death; and the desert howled ever onward.

* * *

**Morpheus is the Greek God of Dreams. Greek mythology plays a heavy role in this fic, so I will be posting side notes on it as need dictates. :) **

**And about the fic, what do you think? How's it sounding? Interested enough to read the forthcoming second chapter? Do review and tell me what you think; you know I love hearing from you all! :)**


	2. Beloved Ghost

II

Beloved Ghost

The sea was calm and still for once, and the waves rolled on gently offering no sudden buck and jolt as the storms of previous nights. The day was clear and the weather good; for once it seemed the Fates had chosen to favor the vessel steering a path through the water towards a distant home.

A man stood near the prow of the ship, still standing where he had been all night previous. He was soaked through and shivering, and yet some energy in him kept him standing though his legs buckled beneath him. His eyes, usually so gently and cheery were bleak and desolate. The cloak he wore was a mockery of protection from the harsh weather. His hair was tousled by wind and rain and he looked altogether like better company for the dead then the living. This was the famed Robin Hood of legend; nothing more than a broken man without his Lady.

A voice, raw with indignity and concern shouted to him, "Master!"

Ever faithful and loyal Much. It was fitting he should be the one to find him in such a state. "Master! What..." He placed a firm hand upon his shoulder. "God! How long have you been out here?!"

"A few moments. An hour. A day...." Robin muttered incoherently.

"Master, come with me down to the cabin. You are ill." Much said, leading the frail man away from the prow.

"I saw her." Robin whispered. "I swore I heard her call to me in the darkness...she is here, Much...she is always here."

"And if she were truly here she would have some fine words to say to you right now, Master; nearly drowning yourself in the rain..." Much chided, walking slowly to keep Robin steady on his feet.

"What I would not give to hear those words...even if they be spoken in anger." Robin whispered, he faltered in his step.

At last he could no longer support himself and he sank to the floor. Much, realizing that his Master could walk no further let me sit upon the deck of the ship unhindered. He sat beside him quietly fidgeting as was his fashion. For a time the two old friends sat in silence as if drawing strength from the others' presence alone. At last a sob tore through Robin, "I miss her, Much. Oh God, there is nothing to compare it too. I need her here. I want her with me. I wake asking myself why she has gone! What have I done to deserve this?! Have I not done right all my life?" He was raging now, "Give her back to me!" he shouted to the cloudless sky overhead, "If there is a God, then I beg you, have mercy...give her back....give Marian back to me..."

Much winced at the agonizing shouts of his leader and close friend. Robin was lying face down upon the deck, fists clenched in anger and defiance at the loneliness which had become his world. Gently, Much eased the man upright again. "Do not do this, Master." He whispered carefully, noticing the odd stares some of the crew were shooting at them, but the sailors had grown accustomed to Robin's ravings over the past week.

"You are unwell. Let me take you back down to your cabin where you can rest." Much offered.

"Yes." Robin said, letting an eerie calmness wash over him with such a suddenness it was on the border of madness. "Yes, I would like to rest....in dreaming I see her. I am with her again, for a moment." Much helped Robin to his feet and led the broken man down into the lower quarters of the ship.

***

Grief is not just reserved for the righteous or the heroic. Sometimes even the most wicked are prone to it. Often it is the villain, despised and unloved who grieves the hardest. They sit alone in their misery uncomforted and friendless; alone in the dark.

Sir Guy of Gisborne, once so proud and stoic, lay like a broken relic of his former self upon a small cot in a dark and dingy cell-like room which would serve as his quarters for the journey back to England. He had hardly moved since he had first laid himself down, and that had been back at the port even before the ship had sailed. A week had passed since that day, though Guy would never have known. He seemed barely alive in his current state. His eyes were open and bloodshot, he stared at the ceiling of his cabin but did not see the wooden rafters. He saw only her.

Marian. The name was like a prayer, in it he had placed all of his hopes, his future, his life, his trust, and his love. Marian had been everything. He recalled that day at Nottingham Castle when she had kissed him with such a feverish passion. If he thought about it hard enough he could very nearly feel the ghost of her lips upon his. She had been his light; his sole goodness. He remembered asking her to stay with him at the Castle after having discovered her secret double life as the Nightwatchman. He remembered how she had smiled and kissed his cheek. Her happiness and relief had been so tangible and overwhelming that Guy had smiled as well at her.

It was not just sweet moments which shifted and played before his mind's eye. Even when Marian had been at her fiercest he had loved her. The anger and indignation that had been in her eyes when she had saved him from drowning at Hood's hands. Such a fiery nature to her, he loved it. He confessed it; he loved every inch of her to the last detail. It pained him whenever she left a room, it hurt him more to think that she did not feel half of what he felt for her.

He had given her chance after chance to come forward with the truth of her relationship with Robin Hood and for each chance she had lied with a smile and glimmer of mischief in her eyes, and he, loving her as he did, had believed her. A darker image had recently come to frequent his thoughts: Marian all in white coming to him to stop his treason. She had finally told him the truth then, all of it in one spiteful and hateful moment. How could she have taunted him so? She said once that she had cared for him, then could she not have seen how her words had broken him? At that moment if he had learned it had all been a ruse, and that she had said she loved Hood only to distract him he would not have cared. He would have believed her, perhaps; taken her in his arms never to let her go again. She may have broken him in one instant, but she could have healed him just as quickly in another.

He had reacted too swiftly. He had lunged for her and in his haste he killed her. Marian; his love, his life...and she was on the sand, bleeding and hurting. She never loved him, it had all been for naught. Now he lay staring blindly upwards tormenting himself with memories of her.

Amidst his silent grief he fell asleep, the first sleep in a week. In that slumber he dreamed. A hooded woman came to him, silent and watchful. She said nothing, and Guy fancied it was Marian's ghost come to haunt him. "Marian!" He cried, startling himself at the lancing agony racing through him.

The hooded woman cringed at the sound. She seemed to want to come closer but she would not move. Guy moved towards her, she was not so very far away, only a pace or two at most. His arms were open to her, he wanted nothing more then to take Marian in his arms and beg for forgiveness a thousand times over.

The hooded figure recoiled wildly, although it seemed her arms were nearly reaching for him as well. He could not help but call to her again. "Marian!"

_Hush, I beg you, be silent._ There were words with no sound and yet Guy felt an overwhelming sense of peace at the mental reverberations.

The woman would not come to him. She straightened, stared him down; however Guy could not see her face. _So much pain...I have tried...for so long to help you..._ Was the woman sobbing? _You can see me?_

"Who...who are you?" Guy asked, this was not Marian.

_But you are a dream...you are not real...._

"Answer me!" Guy shouted.

_No, no, no; I beg you be at ease. Do not shout. Do not cry. I can not stand it! Sleep, now, sleep without dreams. Be at peace._ The woman faded and so did the dream and Guy slept without nightmares and without disturbance.

He awoke with a great start, the ship had given a great lurching roll over the waves and the movement sent Guy tumbling from the cot. Slowly he rose to his feet, his legs buckled slightly, the lack of activity had caused this weakness. He rang his fingers through his unwashed, and disheveled hair. Had he slept? He must have, but if he dreamed he remembered nothing. He had slept peacefully and for a moment all past torment had been banished from his thoughts.

They came rushing back to him now in one great wave. He stood still for a moment as memory came to him. Oh, if only to wake and realize that Marian was alive and that his murder had merely been a nightmare! Marian....the thought of her name snapped something within him. He had been silently grieving for so long it was a wonder he had a voice to lend screams to, but Guy did. He vented his anger and his loss wildly, howling like a wounded wolf, he made wreckage of the little cabin. Tears came as well and he cried without restraint or shame.

Enclosed alone in his darkness, the wretched villain raged, sobbed, and screamed his loss and agony into the arms of no one. Emotionally spent, Guy lay exhausted upon the floor, panting and gasping for breath while at the same time tears continued to track down his face. "Marian..." he sobbed, broken, shattered, "Marian...."

***

"I will go mad if I must lie here any longer!" Marian said in a quipped manner as Djaq entered the room.

"You will not have time to go mad; for if you dare move about just yet you will be dead shortly afterwards." Djaq retorted with her usual patience.

"More stitches?" Marian groaned pulling a face.

"Oh, would you rather have that become infected?" Djaq set her supplies beside Marian's cot. "I have herbs for the pain."

"And yet you fancied not giving these to me when you first brought me here." Marian huffed.

"I needed you awake and alert, not clouded by medicines. I confess it. You could not fall asleep so soon after being roused from the stupor you were in. I may never have woken you again. Do you understand?" Djaq heated a needled over the candle's flame to sterilize it.

"I understand it. In the same fashion in which I understand why you lied to Robin and to me about my own death." Marian said, surprising herself with the anger in her voice.

Djaq paused, "Robin could not have stayed with you. How many times must I explain myself. Two weeks have passed and you are not even well enough to rise from this bed. Could we have detained Robin from England while the Black Knights proceeded to gather and scheme in his absence?"

"You might have said as much at the time!" Marian shouted, half in argument and half in pain as the old stitches were removed. She reached for the mug of pain-relieving herbs and downed the medicine in one gulp.

"Robin would never have left your side, and you were in no position to go on such a long journey back to England." Djaq remarked working steadily.

"But to lie to him..."

"You will be with him again. Isn't that enough?" Djaq grunted.

"I know...it is no less then what I would have done...but I do miss him." Marian's words slurred as the drugs took effect, numbing her senses and dulling her conscious.

"You will be with him soon. I promise you." Noticing that the drugs were taking effect, Djaq began to wash the ugly wound in Marian's side. She did so gently; the skin was still a horrible shade of purple and black, but once she removed the old stitches she could see the flesh inside was a healthy pink and healing nicely.

Djaq smiled. She would make a full recovery soon. Carefully she re-stitched the wound close, this time using a finer string of thread, as the gash was not as severe as before. Again, she dabbed warm water along the line of her stitching to keep the wound clean and proceeded to bandage the wound.

Marian slept soundly on her little cot heedless of the guilt and doubts still swarming through her friends mind.

***

Allan wretched over the railing of the ship as another wave lurched under the vessel. "God cursed, ship." He hiccuped, wiping his tunic sleeve on his mouth. "Will there never be calm water?"

A crewman, who had been working nearby gave a full throated laugh at Allan's question. "Calm water? Sure, an' we have been sailing on the calmest wave ye ever saw. Smoother than a newborn babe's skin, these seas."

"I will never go sailing." Allan groaned, feeling the remaining contents in his stomach roll violently. "I will never, never go sailing."

"Don' know what yer missing, mate." The crewman whistled, tying off a knot of rope.

"Oh, I think that I do. Land. I miss good, hard, land." Allan said, resisting the urge to wretch over the side again.

He kicked out at Little John, who had been standing nearby. "Look at ye. Like some great boulder. Don't ye feel anything? It's vile...this whole cursed ship, 's bleeding the life outta me."

"Perhaps if you shut that great mouth of yours you would feel less inclined to vomit out of it." Little John grunted.

"Very funny." Allan snorted sarcastically. He sat down beside his friend upon the large cargo crates placed near the mast of the ship.

He buried himself against his cloak, shivering. Shame that Djaq wasn't here, she would have had something to give him for his seasickness he had no doubt about that. Shame that Will wasn't here either, at least if he had his best friend beside him they could have had a good laugh over all of this. Allan frowned; lots of old friends had not returned with them on the journey home. It wasn't supposed to be this way. If anything he was the one who had deserved to die; being the liar and traitor he was. Why did it have to be Marian? Good, clever, sturdy Marian who never did wrong. It was hardly fair, now she was lying cold under foreign soil and Will and Djaq had left the gang to start lives of their own, probably never to return to England. Yes he was ill, but he was not altogether certain if it was seasickness or something more.

"Hey!" Allan called, noticing Much coming onto the deck from below. "Much!" He called out again. "Seen Robin about?"

Much headed over to Allan and Little John. "He's in his cabin, resting."

"Seems t' be doing that a lot lately." Allan grunted.

"Well you would too if you had just lost your wife!" Much said defensively.

Allan merely shrugged his cloak against him all the more, "Never 'ad a wife." he grumbled. "So, any grand plans?"

"Get back to England; stop the Sheriff and the Black Knights; get King Richard home." Much listed, the litany had become more of mantra as it was repeated.

"This plan, I like." Little John said.

"Think Robin'll kill the Sheriff and Gisborne, himself?" Allan asked.

"If he doesn't I will." Little John snapped.

"Surely he will wait for the King and his justice?" Much supplied.

"Don' be t' sure o' that." Allan laughed humorlessly. "Nottingham's going to turn into a right ol' blood bath, ye can depend on it."

Little John and Much both stared at Allan, both thinking the same universal thought: If there was going to be a battle, what side was Allan going to be on once the fighting got underway?

* * *

**Not quite sure how long this story is going to run for, to be honest. I'm just going to ride with it and see where it takes me. **

**Do remember to review! :)  
**


	3. Enter the Players

III

Enter the Players

A rolling, rambling carriage was the first sign. The wagon was decorated with flags and tapestries of bright blues and flashing reds and wily yellows. The flags blew in the thin desert breeze and all about the hooves of the horses and other beasts of burden there came a small dust storm. It seemed to be the pet of the caravan as it swirled and danced around the wheels of the carriages and the hooves of the animals.

Standing atop one of the wagons was a nimble young boy with sandy hair and eyes of ocean blue. He was leaping, cartwheeling, and tumbling about on the roof of the wagon. Onlookers gasped, thinking that now the lad might fall, only to have their fears unconfirmed as the boy righted himself. In the ever constant ebb and flow of panic and relief from the audience, applause came.

The young boy bowed, milking the crows for all it was worth. "Come come, friends gather round!" The wagon slowed so that the boy might give his speech to the growing crowd of people in the square.

"Are you eager to see feats of daring and high adventure?" He called dramatically, "Or perhaps have your senses pulled and intrigued with a play of drama and romance? Ah, or mayhap it is a touch of magic you seek?" And in his hand a knife seemed to materialize.

He grinned at the crowds' reaction. "Grand illusion and mysticism. Aye, you shall find that here. Fortune tellers, seers who see straight into the future, and sorceresses trained from the Gods themselves to peer into your very souls."

There was a delicate hush before the boy chuckled heartily. "Look no further, my friends, we are the Players of Dionysus! If you wish to see our performance...you will have to return to the fountain square in two days time!" The boy throw down his fist. There was a puff of smoke which quickly dissipated, but as the smoke cleared the boy had vanished.

The reaction came slowly as if borne on a wave. Slowly the small crowd applauded in appreciation of the boy's speech and subsequent magical disappearance. The crowd dispersed, but there was no doubt they would be back to see these Players of Dionysus again.

Through a clever trap door located on the roof of the wagon the young boy fell right inside. The interior of the first wagon was decorated almost as brilliantly as the outside. Only here there was a small bed for sleeping on and a small cabinet for costumes and props. It was every inch the traveler's quarters, and it was all Joshua's.

Joshua the Acrobat as was his stage name, but previously it would have suited him far more to be called Joshua the Thief. Born a street rat he had played his first staring role as the leader of a band of street rats through the city of Tehran. He had been nimble quick and nigh uncatchable. At the age of seven he had already set his sights to becoming the Prince of Thieves throughout the empire.

Those dreams were dashed however in the most pleasant and unexpected of ways. For he had meant with a band of traveling players one day and they had caught him among their caravan of wagons, looting what treasures he could. Upon seeing the return of a few of the company he had panicked and fled, leaping up onto the tops of the wagons to make his escape.

In his haste he had made a fatal miscalculation in his leaps and had landed hard upon his arm, successfully breaking it. Hurt and unable to regain his balance fast enough one of the players had quickly overtaken him.

The old woman wasn't much of a threat, Joshua reflected, Old Mariel was as frail a woman as any and was probably older than the desert itself. Far from being angry with the boy, Mariel had been impressed with his acrobatic skill and as punishment for his thievery she had sentenced him to be a sort of servant for the Players for as long as she saw fit.

What were his options? Be turned over to the city guards, or to play serving boy to a a band of harmless street performers? His answer was immediate. His probation had lasted only a year, before he joined the band permanently as an acrobat and crier; it had been his job to announce the Players entry to cities since he had been nine years old.

Now at the age of fourteen he couldn't have imagined his life any other way. He had traveled most of the known world with the Players of Dionysus, and he viewed their trade as a branch of his own. The seers and fortune tellers were all well and good, but it was all a bunch of smoke and mirrors in the exchange for a handful of coins.

The caravan had stopped at last and already he could hear the cries outside to organize groups to set up the communal tents and stands which would come to dominate the square in the two weeks to come.

Joshua's reverie was short lived, for a knock came upon his wagon door. "Josh! Josh, I know you're in there. Open up you great lump, you're need to help set up the stage!"

Only Gabrielle could speak in such a booming clear voice. Gabrielle was one of the chorus who sang in the bands many dramatic performances. She had a voice of an angel; that is if angel's could sing with the force of a trumpet and as course as a sailor.

"Comin'." Joshua stepped out of his wagon, giving Gabrielle a wink in the process.

She hit him none to gently. "Rogue, get away with you an' make yourself useful!"

Gabrielle was a native of Jerusalem; the Holy City itself. She had fled with her parents at the start of the Crusades, her parents had perished in the desert, but Gabrielle had survived. She was lithe of body and sharp of mind, Mariel liked to call her a child of the desert, for she was like a fine grain of sand, smoothed to perfection in the harsh desert winds. Gabrielle; however, liked to think of herself as an exile, forced to wander for many years in the desert like in the biblical stories of old; for Gabrielle was Jewish and for her the Players of Dionysus offered her safety from persecution.

Gabrielle went back to helping with the setting up of the center stage where the main show would be held on a daily basis. She could not help but notice that one of the wagons was situated further away from the central hub. She knew it was the want of the resident inside to always set her camp away from the others. She never understood why.

In her distraction she nearly collided with Old Mariel as she descended the steps of her wagon. "Steady, steady...and where are we rushing about to, my dear child?"

"Setting up the stage, Grandmother." Mariel was not Gabrielle's grandmother, but Mariel had taken both her and Joshua under her wing; as they had been the youngest initiates into the band and had shown up nearly a year apart Mariel had taken an interest in their well being. To Gabrielle Old Mariel was the soul of the entire band, and in place of her long dead mother she could never have found a better guardian. She had given her the endearing title and Mariel had never said anything to deter from using it.

"I should hope that you do not set the stage in as much haste as you run towards it." Mariel remarked.

Gabrielle blushed. "I will be more careful in the future, Grandmother."

"Off you go now." Mariel said dismissively, "And make sure Joshua doesn't get it into his head to balance on the wooden beams again!" She called out.

"I will!" Gabrielle waved as she dashed off again.

Mariel chuckled, shaking her head at the sight of the young girl running about. "Ah, to be young again." She laughed, gripping the head of her gnarled walking stick. She hobbled away from the center of the wagons.

The furthest wagon was not decorated at all, and it seemed to not even belong with the others, save for that it was of the same craftsmanship and wood. Mariel made her way up the two steps to the door and she knocked upon it with her stick. "Are we awake in there?" She called softly and in quite a different tone then she had used with Gabrielle.

"Regrettably so." A voice came from within. Muffled as it was there was no mistaking the rich and lush tone it carried. There was the slightest of Greek accents to the voice with a blend of Egyptian undertones. The voice betrayed the mixed breed of the person inside; and what a glorious and odd pedigree it was.

"Well you are to be expect to preform in two hours time. Do not be late." Mariel said firmly.

"I am never late." The voice sighed.

Mariel left the brief conversation at that and trundled on her way again to oversee the setting up of the stage.

The Players had indeed arrived.

***

It had taken Djaq a great deal of effort to restrain Marian from exerting herself as soon as she well enough to walk about the house. Marian could only do so in short spurts, for the wound would quickly begin to pang her to the point where even limping proved to uncomfortable.

Daily she made progress, though, and even though Djaq had insisted she rest for at least another full week Marian was hearing none of it. She seemed fueled by an otherworldly passion and took her exercises seriously. She was determined to get home as quickly as possible. Every day without Robin was a misery to live in; every day knowing that he thought her dead played havoc on her senses; and every day knowing that the man responsible for this was still living tormented her soul.

By the end of the diagnosed week Marian was able to walk about on her own, unhindered, for an entire day. Will had fashioned a walking staff for her and while Marian had at first been loathed to use it she soon grew accustomed to the finely crafted staff. Limping a little notwithstanding she felt herself growing stronger every second and with every second she schemed as to how she would get home.

Her first plan had been to seek out the aid of the King, knowing that he could have assured her safe passage back to England. But the King had since moved on and away from Acre in the month it had taken her to recover fully and she would not wait on messengers to get her word to him. For the moment Marian was bound to the city of Acre and the thought of her current position was beginning to sting far more than the sword wound at her side.

"The market square is completely in chaos!" Will Scarlett remarked as he entered the house.

"How so?" Djaq asked, removing his dusty cloak and folding it up.

"Travelers have completely overrun the place." He remarked, "Impossible to sell wares anywhere near there. I think they're performers."

"Thieves, you mean." Djaq snorted.

"What's this about thieves?" Marian asked, limping her way into the main entry room.

"Will says there are traveling street performers at the market square." Djaq reiterated. "And I say show me a street performer who isn't robbing you blind."

"Well, I say look at the pot calling the kettle black." Marian remarked wryly, "Haven't you spent that last two years as a thief?"

"Those were different circumstances." Djaq grumbled.

"I'd like to see them." Marian declared.

"No." Djaq interrupted, "You are still not well enough..."

"Oh, Lord, Djaq!" Marian sighed in exasperation, stomping her staff upon the floor, "How long do you intend to keep me cooped up here?"

"Until you are sufficiently recovered."

"I am recovered!" Marian said, "I can walk! The pain isn't nearly as bad as it has been, and I feel fine!"

Djaq scowled, but so did Marian, "Sometimes, Djaq, you remind me of a great mother hen. You've got to let the chicks out of the nest eventually."

"She does have a point, love." Will remarked. "The more freedom she gets the faster she'll heal...and it will be less of a headache for you rather than arguing back and forth."

"Fine." Djaq consented reluctantly, "But I'm coming with you."

"Fair enough." Marian shrugged. "Lead the way, Mother Hen."

"Only if you can keep up, chickadee."

***

Traversing the crowded markets was chaos enough, but with the added cluster of wagons and tents at the heart of the square it was nearly impossible to sift through the throngs of people.

Children had taken to standing along the rim of the center fountain to catch a better glimpse at the performers. Jugglers and acrobats performed for the the crowds for coins which were thrown at their feet. Mostly it was a free show as not everyone was generous in their appreciation.

Marian found herself intrigued by the motley crew of people surrounding the tents and wagons. They seemed to make up people from all over the known world. There were Saracens, Spaniards, Egyptians, Italians, Greeks, Englishmen, and Frenchmen. All discernible, if not from their physical appearances, then from the unmistakable accents of there voices.

Marian delighted in the freedom of these people. The women stood alongside the men and performed all the same feats as they did, and there was one woman who even demonstrated her skills in knife throwing with harrowing accuracy.

At the heart of the square stood a ramshackle stage cobbled together from planks of wood, easily put up and easily taken down when it was time to move on. Here one had to pay a fee in order to attend the performances, and judging from the growing crowd, there was another performance coming up.

After much convincing and cajoling Marian convinced Djaq to put up the two marks for admittance. Djaq didn't understand why Marian felt the need to witness the players' show. Marian merely shrugged, called it a need to satisfy her curiosity and left the matter at that.

The audience seemed anxious for something. Djaq frowned, straining to listen in on the sparse conversations:

"I hear she truly has the gift."

"It's true; wait and see her."

"Witchcraft and nothing more."

"I saw her two days ago. Can she really read your soul at a glance?"

Djaq was beginning to feel uneasy herself, but Marian seemed oblivious to the mounting tension around her.

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light and puff of smoke. Djaq and Marian both blinked, averting their eyes from the bright light. Blinking rapidly Marian looked back up at the stage, which had become smoke filled since the blast.

A woman had arrived through the fog of smoke although she could not see her face for a hood obscured her features. Marian felt her gut twist within her. There was something very familiar about this woman. Something familiar and altogether haunting.

"Who has come to seek my council?" The woman spoke.

The accented tone sent alarm bells ringing throughout Marian's skull. She must remember. Something was very wrong here. She was beginning to feel quiet ill indeed. She swayed slightly on her feet before catching herself and staying her balance.

"You?" The hooded woman remarked, lazily pointing towards a member of the audience. The hand which emerged from the woman's cloak was covered with a soft, velvet glove which seemed fitted tightly over the woman's spindly hands. "Or perhaps you?"

The last was directed right at Marian and she literally gulped upon being acknowledged by this unnerving woman. The hooded woman paused, lowering her hand. She tilted her hand to one side and out came words which nearly knocked Marian over. "Do you know me?"

The words triggered something within the back of her mind. The dream she had had when she had been on the corner of life and death. The hooded woman shrouded in mist who had told her to go home, who had asked her the very same question as this woman was now.

"Yes." Marian whispered, shakily.

Djaq stared at Marian wildly. What in the world had possessed the woman to say something so singularly nonsensical?

The hooded woman seemed to falter for a fraction of a second, but the image passed as quickly as it had come. Very slowly and with great patience the woman raised her gloved hands to her hood and pulled it down. The face which looked out on the ground could only be described as ancient. The almond brown eyes stared out of an oval shaped face, the skin was colored olive by heritage and the sun. Hair as black as midnight cascaded in waves about her. She looked like a being from another time entirely.

The woman gestured for Marian to join her on stage. "Come." She said simply, and there was no disobeying the quiet command.

Marian went to meet the odd woman up on the scaffolding of the stage. "How do you know me?" The woman asked.

"I..." Marian swallowed, "I saw you...in a dream."

The woman's lips twitched for a moment, as if that was not the answer she had been wanting to hear. The audience exchanged wary and dark looks. Stage witchcraft and fortune telling was one thing; implied dream walking and prescience was another....and it was unnerving on the whole.

"I sense you are in pain." The woman said hastily, quick to divert attention to other matters. "Here." She pressed a hand to Marian's wound. "But no matter, you are healing nicely now."

"How did you..." Marian gawped.

"Are you afraid?" The woman asked. "Oh yes...yes..." She made a great show of circling the woman. "You are afraid, but not for yourself." She placed a hand over her eyes as if she was seeking answers elsewhere.

"Oh you are a long way from home." She concluded.

"I am." Marian replied, trying to reign in her astonishment.

"And you fear you might never be able to return home. Do you fear also for the man who waits for you back home?" The woman asked.

"I am not afraid." Marian said stubbornly.

"You worry." The woman said cooly.

Marian was silent, confirming the woman's astute answer. "I will confer with the spirits and perhaps I shall find the answers you seek." The woman said loudly, once more shutting her eyes. "Tell me first, what is your name?"

"Marian."

The woman's eyes snapped open and she whirled back towards Marian. Her mouth was half open in astonishment and in her eyes was real shock. Thereafter the woman fainted clean away much to the shock of the audience and the horror of Marian.

The crowd began to gather closer to the stage to inspect the fallen woman. A withered old crone dispersed the crowd with a wave of her gnarled stick. "Back, all of you. Give her room to breathe." She knelt to check the fallen woman's breathing. She glared up at Marian. "What did you say to her?"

"N-n-nothing." Marian stammered.

The crone rose, sweeping her arms wide. "Psyche has fallen into a Seer's Trance. She can not be woken from it by force! Go now; when she awakens she will tell you all what she has seen!"

Grudgingly the crowd departed from the stage. Djaq ran up to the stage. "What is going on?" She demanded.

"She fainted." Marian said.

"And you have something to do with it." The old woman remarked with a shake of her stick.

"Me? But I..." Marian's excused were cut short.

"Come with me back to the caravan." The old woman snapped. "Joshua!" She called.

A sandy haired young boy scurried over. "Carry Psyche back to her room." The old woman instructed. "With caution, Joshua."

"I know, I know how to handle her by now, Grandmother. It's not like this is the first time Psyche's pulled this stunt. You would have thought it old a long time ago." Joshua grumbled, hefting the woman up into his arms with a grunt of exertion. He staggered his way down the stairs and off towards the circle of wagons.

The old one turned her attention back to Djaq and Marian and said in a sharp voice. "You two, come with me."

* * *

**This is the point where the story will constantly be shifting focus. Every other chapter will be about Marian, Djaq, Will and Psyche and every other chapter in between that will be focused on Robin and the gang, the Sheriff, and Guy: eventually both stories will meet in the middle. So this is kind of like two fics in one. I'm hoping it works out all right. **

**Anyway; you know the drill. Review away! :) Next chapter should be up on on Thursday. (Yes, I'm scheduling myself this time. XD)  
**


	4. Shoreline

IV

Shoreline

Robin was dreaming; he was back at Locksley with Marian. It was summer and all about the forest was alive with colors and the very air seemed golden and bright. Marian was waving at him from the doorway of the manor, beckoning to him to come closer and there was an air of mischievous happiness about her. To Robin she had never looked more beautiful.

He tried to run over to her, but found his legs leaden and numb. Marian laughed at his attempts to reach her. Her eyes sparkling bright with mirth. Robin felt himself smile at his own clumsiness and with a slower and more determined stride he tried to reach the doorway to the manor. He couldn't move. Panic was beginning to seep into his blood. Marian was still patiently waiting for him. It was like he was being pinned down somehow.

He tried to lift one leg with his hands, but nothing would work. He tried to make out some sort of sign that he couldn't move; that he was trapped. Marian hardly seemed to notice. Panic became terror, although why he should feel so frightened in such a peaceful place he did not know. He tried to cry out to her, but he had no voice. Why couldn't Marian see his fear?

He clapped hands over his ears to block out the sound of her laughter and he shut his eyes. The scene changed and he found himself once more back in the Holy Land. He was standing alone in a small city square. A fountain trickled steadily at the center and he could hear the water droplets as clear as small knives scratching the stone basin.

Tentatively he lifted his leg, only this time he found he had movement. No longer frozen he began to walk towards the fountain. The panic had not receded, and Robin still did not understand why there was such turmoil springing from within. He quickened his pace, urged on by some unseen nightmare.

Walking about the fountain he saw her. Marian lying dead upon the sand, her white dress stained with her blood. He screamed, charging towards her. He lifted her gently into his arms. His hands traveled to the wound at her side, shakily he covered it as if hoping to stem the flow of blood. He shook her, mumbling her name. He kissed her forehead. She felt so cold to the touch.

Suddenly Marian's eyes snapped open, glaring at him accusingly. "Why did you let me die?" She demanded.

"I tried Marian...I tried to save you..." Robin moaned.

"You were too late." Marian said coldly.

"Forgive me." Robin cried.

He awoke with a sudden jolt, he toppled over off of the small bed and onto the floor of his cabin, tangled in the blankets. He did not even attempt to rise to his feet, he lay where he fell, panting and breathing heavily, trying to regain his senses. He looked about the dimly lit room. He could see the only lantern in the room sway side to side as the ship rocked.

With a sigh, Robin passed a hand over his eyes in relief that the nightmare was over for the night. The agonizing peace was shattered when, from outside upon the door, came a few, short, consecutive, and loud knocks. "Master!" Much called.

Groaning Robin picked himself up from the floor, throwing the blanket back down upon the bed with a restrained fury. "What?!" He snarled.

"Master, shore's in sight." Much said excitedly.

Within seconds Robin had wrenched the door open. "And you only sought to tell me now? How long ago was land sighted?"

"I came as soon as I heard." Much said with a shrug.

Only running back into the cabin to fetch his cloak he tore up the ladder, past Much, and broke up upon the deck. Still groggy from his abrupt awakening, Robin tottered over to the rail. He cupped a hand over his eyes to glance off in the distance. He could see land, but only just. It appeared as only a cloud bank at first glance, but it was too flat and unmoving to be clouds.

"You," Robin said abruptly, grabbing one of the sailors without warning, "how long until we reach port?"

"From this distance?" The man responded, titling his head to one side in momentary reflection. "'Bout two, three days I'd say. Now, iffn' ye don't mind. How's about lettn' me get back t' work?" The sailor said roughly, plucking himself out of Robin's grasp.

"What did he say?" Much asked, finally catching up.

"Two to three days." Robin repeated mechanically.

"Fantastic!" Much cheered.

"Not soon enough." Robin said, dampening his friend's good mood.

"There is only so much we can do, Master." Much said, attempting to be reasonable.

"What's going on, hm?" Allan asked as both he and Little John made their way over to the pair.

"Just got word," Much said, turning to address them, thankful for the interruption, "landing in a few days."

"Ah, nice, can't say I'll miss this bloody ship." Allan said, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

"Eager to get back on solid ground, Allan?" Robin said gruffly.

"Aye, an' I'll never leave it again." Allan laughed.

"Like you said you would never leave us, hm?" Robin said, eyeing him strangely, "I wonder, Allan, if you're not so much eager to get back on land as you are to get back into the service of the Sheriff, and Gisborne."

"Hey, now, I told you I left 'em for good." Allan shot back, stun by the unexpected assault on his loyalties.

"None of this would have happened if you hadn't proven yourself such a traitor." Robin spat back.

"Are you blaming me for everything that's happened?!" Allan shouted.

The two men were turning on one another and the mood had gone from dark to positively murderous. Much placed a hand upon Robin's shoulder. "Leave him alone, Master; you know he's not to blame."

"Once a traitor always a traitor. Maybe we'll just decided to leave you at port when we land, Allan; have you find your own way home." Robin snarled, shrugging Much's hand away. He stormed off from the rest of the gang, tugging his cloak about him furiously as he went.

Allan stared after him, eyes whirling in fury. "He can't be serious. It ain't my fault that Marian got killed. It ain't. An' I'm _not_ gonna turn traitor again. I learned my lesson. I ain't lying...you believe me....doncha?" He turned, suddenly anxious to his friends.

"I believe you." Little John barked, more to calm the mood of everyone then out of any truth.

"Sure, we believe you." Much nodded absentmindedly.

Allan nodded, unconvinced and hurt that his friends had lost so much faith in him. Much sighed. Not even back in England and already they were falling apart. How were they to destroy the Black Knights if they themselves were an unified rabble? If Robin didn't learn to control his grief and if they couldn't try to trust Allan again...then they would lose faith in themselves and their cause. If they didn't band together now, then everything they had been working so long and hard to protect would be destroyed.

***

The Sheriff was in a dark and impatient mood. If he knew Robin Hood, and he prided himself that he knew that boy and his motives better than any man alive, he would be on a ship heading for England just as he was. He had no sense of direction out on these waters. Were they at the head or was Robin leading the way? Either way he felt himself racing with invisible forces and on a track of which he could not control the outcome. It was making him extremely irritable, more so than usual.

What was worse was that his Master at Arms was completely and utterly useless to him. One would have thought he would have gotten over his petty grief for the leper girl already. The first few weeks had been tolerable, as all Guy had done was lock himself in his cabin. By the fourth week he had seem to come alive again, but only to steal wine from the the ship's thinly stocked cellars and drink himself into a state of oblivion once again. If Guy did not cease this act soon enough, the Sheriff was tempted to throw him overboard and find himself a new right-hand man. But as it was he let Guy alone, there was not much which could be done while on this accursed ship.

However, the Sheriff could no longer let Guy wallow in his grief. A ship had been sighted, coming up directly after them. At the moment they were relatively a safe distance away and the captain had insisted there would be no need to engage in any kind of contact for the time being. The Sheriff had his suspicions. What if that was the ship carrying Robin and his gang? All well and good that they keep out of contact, for at the moment he was in the lead, and the Sheriff was a man who preferred to come in first. He need to devise a plan to catch the outlaw as they came into port, and unfortunately for him the man who would be doing the catching was lying in a drunken stupor in his cabin.

The Sheriff was about to bang upon Guy's door when one of the ship's crewmen halted him. "Wouldn't do that, if I was you." He said seriously.

"Well then, thank God you _aren't _me." Sheriff Vaysey said sarcastically.

The man merely shrugged his shoulders, "Man's gone mad in there." He continued to explain, "Broke ol' Finch's back two days ago, an' he never did no wrong but look at him funny. Poor ol' Finch...'ad ta t'row him overboard naught but yesterday. Dead as a doornail he was."

The Sheriff listened to the man's story with odd amusement. Good to know that Guy had at least not lost his killing streak. He did not require the man to be sane, just brutal. "My good man, come here." Vaysey gestured congenially.

"Aye, sir?" The man complied taking a few steps over to him to receive any further instructions.

Swiftly as if to prove a point the Sheriff rapped three times upon the heavy wooden door. Almost immediately he could hear pounding footsteps near the door. It was wrenched open and the Sheriff ducked down, shoving the unfortunate sailor forward. Without looking Guy merely reacted in the way he had been to all who disturbed him; he punched the man squarely in the jaw. The man flew backwards, his head connecting with the wall behind him. He fell face down; unconscious even before hitting the floor.

"Fantastic aim." Vaysey remarked, coughing lightly as if to hide his own amusement at the brutish scene.

Guy turned to glare at him, almost tempted to send the Sheriff reeling backwards with a punch as well. Guy swayed on his feet, only his hand upon the door kept him upright and slightly steady. He stared down at the Sheriff through blood shot and bleary eyes.

"Are you sober?" the Sheriff sniffed.

"I think so." Guy slurred out, he had been in constant drunken state for so long he had forgotten what soberness felt like.

"Then get yourself on deck." The Sheriff snapped impatiently. "There's something you need to see."

"Yes, m'lord." Guy growled out.

Staggering, Guy followed the Sheriff up the ladder and out onto the deck. The sun momentarily blinded him. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he stumbled out into bright light. Blinking, his eyes adjusted to the sudden change in lighting. The fresh ocean air whipped about him and it was surprisingly cold. He was unused to feeling the coldness of the breeze. That was when he noticed the state of his dress; his coat was in complete shambles, half on and half off, and some of the clasps were either missing or dangling awkwardly to one side. One of the sleeves was torn, how that had happened Guy could not recall. He had lost his gloves, again, as to their whereabouts Guy could not be sure.

Still following the Sheriff, Guy found himself leaning out against the railing. The Sheriff pointed out to see. "Do you see that?" he asked him.

"The ship?" Guy said, squinting hard to see the outline of the vessel.

"Right first time!" The Sheriff mocked, "Do you know who might be on that ship?"

Guy was silent, although whether or not he was truly thinking over his answer the Sheriff could not tell. "Robin Hood, you imbecile!" He answered for him.

At the mention of that man's Guy seemed to hunch over, like a wolf crouching down in a hunter's pounce. His hands clutched the railing tightly, he looked as if he would have jumped overboard and swum the entire length from this ship to the one behind them if it meant he would have the opportunity to kill Robin Hood. "Are you sure?" Was all he asked.

"Shall we take a chance that I am not right, for once?" The Sheriff remarked, "If that is Robin Hood on that ship then we lead him by a good stretch of time. When that ship docks I want us ready to intercept him."

"Are we going to kill him?" Guy asked, his eyes whirling darkness and hell.

"Oh, so quickly?" The Sheriff asked, "Capture him first. He can come with us back to Nottingham, and then, Gisborne, we shall make an example of him...and I will leave the workings of that up to you."

Much to the Sheriff's surprised Guy actually smiled; although it looked more like a wolf baring it's fangs. The Sheriff shuddered; what kind of devil was he working with now? And how soon before the dog turned on it's own master?

***

Shortly after Guy's short excursion on deck he returned to his cabin. Already in his mind he was devising ways he would like to see Robin Hood meet his end. A hanging was too quick. He wanted this man to suffer; this man who had had everything he never had: The people's respect, a good family and friends who had loved him, and Marian...above all things Robin had had Marian. He would have sold his soul to have been given the chance to trade places with Robin even for a day. The next best thing was to have his enemy suffer as he had. He wanted him to scream, to plead, to beg, to cry like a little child; he wanted him to want to die, oh but he wouldn't let him so quickly. He would draw it out day by day; killing him slowly; and Guy promised himself it would be a long, long time before he ever allowed Robin Hood to die.

He fell asleep, lulled by the idle daydreams of Robin's torture and subsequent execution. In his mind the screams of his enemy was like the sweetest of music. He could survive off these dreams. He felt stronger because of them. Suddenly his hellish dream seemed to fade and there was a familiar buzzing of words. _Such hate...such violence...what has made you so angered at the world?_

The hooded woman had come again. The figure had been a familiar haunt of his dreams, and while he could not always see her he was becoming acutely aware of how to tell she was there. This time though, the figure appeared haggard and unsteady on her feet, not at all like the graceful image she usually embodied. "Who are you to judge me?" He snarled viciously into the darkness.

_Do you think it makes you stronger? Carrying all of this bloodshed in your thoughts and heart? _

"Yes!" Guy challenged, "This is who I am! I'm a killer, a murderer. Why shouldn't I revel in bloodshed?"

_Because it hurts you and you despise it._ The hooded figure said clearly. _And I've seen you shed tears for those you've hurt..._

"You know nothing. You're not even real!" Guy said, feeling a cold chill race down his spine at his intimate secrets being turned around and admitted to him.

_I am real. You are my dream...and yet...yet you seem as much flesh and blood as I am. _

Guy was feeling rather frightened of this presence now. He backed away. "What do you want?"

_Stop hurting._ The hooded woman sounded pleading almost,_ When you are in pain I hurt, when you are angered, I can feel your rage, when you are sorrowful I...._The voice silenced itself.

Guy stared in silence at the figure. She was looking down, but then Guy could never see the hooded woman's face. Her arms were hugging herself as if to stop herself from reaching out to grab him instead.

Guy sneered at the figure, obviously this was a figure of his long dead conscious; manifesting itself in a dream of his. He had only to ignore it and it would sink away back into his subconscious.

The hooded woman looked back up at him. _No more of these nightmares._ She said, _Sleep without dreams..._She faded and he was left in soothing darkness.

When Guy awoke the following morning he had no recollection of the dreams he had had, or of the hooded woman who had visited them.

* * *

**Next chapter should be up soon, in the meantime do review. :)**


	5. The Seer

V

The Seer

Old Mariel walked silently and steadily towards the circle of wagons with Marian and Djaq following along behind her much in the fashion of recently punished children. Djaq kept eying Marian curiously, still trying to make sense of what had just occurred. "What were you thinking?" She hissed to her friend. "What compelled to you mock the woman?"

"I wasn't mocking her!" Marian whispered fiercely. "I'm telling you Djaq, I've seen that woman before!"

"Are you delirious?" Djaq said, putting a hand up to Marian's forehead. "It might be the remnants of a fever."

"Oh will you stop?!" Marian huffed, shoving Djaq's hand away. "I'm perfectly fine. I know it sounds....strange, but Djaq, I have seen that woman."

"Then tell me where, and why don't I recognize her." Djaq snapped.

"I saw her. She came to me in a dream." Marian whispered, as if recollecting the images before her eyes.

"In a dream?" Djaq repeated slowly, as if she was speaking with a very slow or very young child.

"I said it sounded strange!" Marian snapped back, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She didn't quite believe it herself, either. Was it possible to meet a person once in a dream only to see them in the flesh later? Were there truly people who had a gift to traverse people's subconsciousness? It was pure nonsense. She had seen stage seers and fortune tellers before. They were all for show and they usually had little tricks they used to pin-point exact details of the person they were divining information for. But the hooded woman on stage had merely pointed to her and spoken the same words she had heard repeated in her dreams. That just didn't happen. It shouldn't have happened.

Mariel suddenly turned on them as they reached the ladder leading into one of the wagons, halting them so forcefully and suddenly that Djaq collided into Marian, who had taken a momentary lead. "Stay here." She barked in a tone which did not befit her age at all. "Joshua, bring Psyche inside." She directed the young boy who was standing behind them with the still unconscious woman.

Nodding, the young boy tottered up to the three step ladder and towards the open door. Sweat was already brimming on his brow, it was not as if the woman he had been carrying all the way from the stage was particularly feather light. Marian noted that the boy was paying particularly close attention to how he was holding her. His arms were only about the woman's cloak, if he slipped he maneuvered his arms in such a way as to hardly touch her at all. No wonder the boy looked exhausted, he was just barely holding on to her.

Joshua laid the woman down upon the little cot in the corner of the wagon. Mariel entered next. She neither laid a hand upon the woman's forehead to check for fever, nor did she place a finger on the woman's hand to feel for the traces of a pluse. It was very strange. Djaq shuffled awkwardly as if wanting to tell the old woman to shake the unconscious woman into wakefulness. What good was she doing just standing over the girl? She could be seriously injured and yet no one dared to touch her.

The woman stirred upon the cot, mumbling something under her breath. Her face contorted, as if in pain. She writhed about on the bed, but Mariel continued to watch unaffected at the woman's seizure like performance. Djaq could take no more of this. "Give her water!" She cried. "She's in pain!"

The cry fell on deaf ears. Mariel loomed over the shaking woman with a cold and calculating eye. Djaq let out a growl of frustration and tried to gain entrance into the room. Joshua shoved her back. "You were told to stay out here." He warned like a great guard dog.

"But she's in pain! Can't you see? She needs help." Djaq insisted.

"You must stay out here." Joshua repeated.

"You fools! She could be dying!" Djaq said, shocked at these peoples' indifference.

"She is not dying." Mariel remarked, barely moving her lips. "Merely dreaming."

"Dreaming?" Djaq said stunned at the callousness of the remark.

Suddenly the woman gave a great gasp and sat up in the bed. Her almond eyes were wide and staring and she shook and shivered as if she had been overcome with a great chill. Mariel stayed her shaking by placing a hand against the brooch of the woman's cloak. "Peace, child." She whispered.

The woman turned to look at the old woman. "Oh...Mariel..." She gasped, "Was I having a nightmare again?"

"You fainted." Mariel said gruffly.

"What...I...oh..." The woman finally caught sight of Marian and Djaq waiting outside. The woman's olive skin seemed to pale.

Mariel gestured for them to enter with a slight beckoning of her gnarled fingers. Marian entered first, almost leaping at the chance to examine this strange woman. Djaq entered slowly, with great trepidation. She did not like these people, something about this whole affair was not right.

"A month ago." The woman said, her tone steadying, "I had a dream...I saw a woman dressed in white...and her name was Marian. How do you come to have the same name?" She asked calmly.

"I had a similar dream, only I saw a hooded woman. She asked me if I knew her and she told me to go home or I should be lost forever. How do you come to be the same woman?" Marian retorted with far less patience.

The woman trembled slightly. "Impossible." she whispered. "You can't be..."

Djaq snorted, "What? Didn't you 'foresee' her arrival? Did your spirits forget to mention that you would be visited by us?"

The woman slowly turned her head to view Djaq. She blinked with an eerie and otherworldly calm. "Might you hand me that flask of water near you? I confess, I am quite parched."

Taken aback at the request Djaq fumbled, turning to find the flask where she had said it would be. She handed the water to the woman casually. "I thank you, healer." The woman said, "I did not know I also had a woman of medicine with me today."

"How did you..." Djaq spluttered, unable to finish her sentence.

The woman smiled slightly. "Your hands were unusually steady when you handed me that flask; the hands of a healer. I do not require the aid of 'spirits' to divine what I can judge with my own eyes."

"Then how did you know I was injured. Why did you faint when I told you my name?" Marian demanded.

"Simple. You walked favoring your injured side and as for your name. No mystery...the sun was high...it was hot...I fainted." But from the broken way she explained herself it was all to obvious that she was lying.

She took a sip from the flask of water and, setting that aside, she began to unlace the heavy and concealing cloak and hood she wore. The outfit she wore underneath the dark colored cloak was even stranger; it was a high collared dress, if one could call it a proper dress. It was entirely black, and buttoned from the neck down to her lower chest, where it there spread itself down the rest of her torso freely, completely covering her legs and feet. The sleeves were long, running up past her wrist to cover the ends of her black velvet gloves. There was not an inch of skin revealed in her close fitted gown. The only trace of her humanity rested in the olive colors of her chin and face, for that was all which was visible.

She made no sign that she wished to remove her gloves, instead she folded her hands neatly in her lap. Djaq could not help but stare at the odd woman. "What kind of seer does not believe in her own magic?"

The woman laughed, "Stage tricks have served me well. Were you expecting me to be closing my eyes every second to 'listen' to my spirits? That is all well and good for the stage."

Mariel was glaring at her now. The woman coughed, "I trust you to not babble my secrets to the common passerby though?"

"You may depend on it." Djaq said grudgingly.

"What is your name?" Marian blurted out.

"My name is Psyche." She replied.

"Like the myth?" Djaq said.

"So you are well read along with being well instructed in medicine?" Psyche replied. "Yes, I was named for the myth."

"You have not answered my question." Marian said, "How did you know me? How did I dream of you?"

"Coincidence." Psyche shrugged, feeling more then she let on. "I think you had better go."

"But I..." Marian protested.

"You heard her. Go. You are dismissed." Mariel said, waving her stick.

Djaq took Marian by the arm and escorted from the wagon. Psyche continued to stare at the pair as they ventured back out into the crowded market square. She sighed, suddenly hunching over and dropping in stature.

"You are dreaming properly." Mariel said.

"I told you Mariel, I do not believe in that!" Psyche snapped.

"What did you dream just now?" Mariel asked.

Psyche passed a hand over her eyes, her shoulders trembling. "The same dreams I have had every night for the past five years. What else?" She said coldly. "What meaning can there be from them?"

"It is the same? The same man every time?" Mariel mused.

"Yes." Psyche whispered. "Only now...Mariel, for the first time it is like he sees me. Oh Mariel, I have never felt so much misery in a man. What does it mean? Oh, if he were real..."

"Marian proved to be flesh and blood." Mariel said.

"Coincidence." Psyche said again.

"Your mother had the Gift, why shouldn't..."

"My mother was a sick woman! There is no such thing as a Gift or magic, Mariel. There is only the trick and the show." Psyche sighed.

"When you dream, does the man in them feel like a trick?" Mariel said.

"No....he looks and seems real. He once tried to hold me, Mariel." Psyche shuddered. "I think I would have let him...I think if he were real I would like to hold him too...." she shook her head suddenly, "But enough. Foolish. It is only an image my mind created."

"He is quite a man to have you sigh and proclaim such things." Mariel said, rapping her stick upon Psyche's head.

"Men in dreams have a way of reflecting Gods, Mariel. And Gods do not exist." Psyche retorted, rubbing her head. "However, that woman does exist and I believe we shall be seeing her again soon...although I do not understand why."

***

"I feel as if my legs have become about as useless as split wood." Marian commented as she and Djaq made their way back to the house.

"I told you it wasn't a good idea to go wandering about in your condition. But what do I know, hm? I only saved your life." Djaq muttered half to herself and half to her companion.

"Djaq it's like I was speaking to the air." Marian said, still preoccupied with the strange woman they had so recently encountered. "My only assurance of sanity is that you saw her to."

"Oh what is the matter with you? Did your sense take leave of you when you were stabbed?" Djaq said, rounding on her accusingly. "I saw only a con woman and a thief. Don't you get it, Marian? She preys on peoples' superstitions and weaknesses for money. After all _you_ were the one that professed to know her in the first place. She merely took that and used it against you."

"Djaq she knew things...."

"Like she knew I was a healer? She's a gifted observer, that's all." Djaq said.

"She told me I had to go home or I would be lost here forever." Marian insisted.

"I can not believe you are even giving this another thought." Djaq shook her head.

"She was in my dream!" Marian shouted.

"And I'm the Queen of Jerusalem!"

"Who's royalty?" Will asked as the two women came stamping into the house. Immediately he regretted the jibe as both of the women directed their glares of anger towards him. Will held up his hands in submission; Djaq alone was not a woman to cross and that coupled with Marian's infamous ire was a double barbed arrow of fury.

Used to situations of high tension back in Nottingham between Robin and the rest of the gang Will quickly tried to bring about peace. Having always been the mediator in arguments between Robin and Allan he used his past knowledge to break up the two bickering women. "Would one of you mind telling me exactly what's going on?" He asked, stepping in between the two.

Both of the women began explaining themselves simultaneously. Will waved his hands wildly, urging for silence again. "One of you," He emphasized, "at a time!"

Marian and Djaq glanced at one another as if to signal who should go first. Djaq side stepped away from Marian, letting her have the floor first. Marian sighed, pleased that at least the arguing was done for now. "It's entirely strange." She began, "I'll ask you not to speak until I've finished explaining myself." And she told Will about the strange dreams she had had and the woman who she had met in the market square.

Will sat very silently as Marian explained herself. When she had finished he turned to Djaq, "Is this true?"

"Entirely." Djaq grunted.

"Well," Will sighed, "in that case, I believe I should meet this woman"

Djaq merely stared, open mouthed at Will, wondering if whether she was the only sane one of the three of them. Marian could not help put smile wickedly in her triumph.

***

Psyche did not panic when she found herself surrounded by a comfortable blackness. She was aware she was dreaming, and she knew this darkness like the back of her glove. She doubted that it was normal to dream in complete silence and blackness, but then again she was never sure if she was dreaming all the time; sometimes she thought she was going mad.

She walked or drifted about, somehow she was aware the she was boxed in and that the ground beneath her was unsteady and swayed like she was over water. She raised a hand up to feel for the hood, which was always covering her. She let her arms fall to her sides.

Suddenly she was acutely aware that she was not alone, but that was not a surprise. She was never alone when she dreamed, she had grown used to the presence of another. It had been unusual; one night, five years ago, when she met a man among the darkness she thought had been reserved especially for her subconscious dreaming. Naïve and not thinking she played along in the dream. She followed the man, trying to summon up enough courage to ask him what he was doing here, but even when she did try to speak to him he did not hear her. What strange character had she created?

But the more she dreamed the more she began to understand. Being in the man's presence became difficult. As if she couldn't breathe properly, she found when she awoke she awoke to aching limbs and a throbbing pain in her skull. It only grew worse with time.

Now she could already begin to feel the headache coming on. Common sense would dictate that she should turn back, but this was a dream. Psyche felt that sense could have no meaning here. She could see the man now; dressed all in black; black as she herself was clothed; black as night.

She couldn't remember when she realized her dreams were somehow centered around the man's own dreams, or when she realized she was stealing his dreams from him. Whenever she found him he was already dreaming; a nightmare, the man was always having a nightmare. She came and took those nightmares away. Sometimes the man awoke to see her, sometimes he merely faded back into a peaceful sleep.

This time he did not see her. She could hear herself trying to comfort him, but somehow she could hardly hear her own words. She closed her eyes and suddenly she could feel everything he did: Pain, fear, anger, hatred, loneliness, sorrow, betrayal, regret, fury, yearning, guilt, grief, and loss...oh such loss. She never saw anything in these nightmares sometimes she thought she did; like blood, a woman murdered out in the desert, or countless other violent images, but she could never be certain.

Psyche clasped her head in her hands, screaming. Wanting it to stop. Why was she forced to do this each night? What was the point? Where was the purpose? She awoke in a cold sweat, still screaming. She took in a few deep, cleansing breaths. She let the covers of the bed slip from her. She hunched over, feeling years older than she was.

Her body was aching and her head felt as if it was on fire. Even awake she could still feel the effects of that man's nightmares radiate throughout her. She got up slowly, reaching for the flask of water she always kept nearby. She drank from it greedily, her throat had gone raw from screaming.

She corked the flask and set it aside again. She was still breathing heavily, she passed a hand over her eyes. She could still picture the man in her dreams. Who was he? She shuddered. "Please stop..." She said aloud to no one but the darkness surrounding her in her cart, "Please...I don't want this. Go away, go away! I can't help you. Don't you understand! Whatever you are, whatever this is...leave me alone!" And much to her surprise she burst into tears. She cried because she was so very tired, she cried out of fear that she was losing her mind, but mostly she cried because she knew she had lied just now. The dreams would never leave her, and she knew in her heart she would go mad if they did.

***

The day past with a suffocating sense of normalcy. Psyche felt as if she was sleepwalking. The afternoon sun was blisteringly hot and concealed as she was in her midnight garb she was sweltering, but Psyche had learned how to ignore her discomfort. That alternative to the heat was far more terrifying to her.

She had performed as usual; two shows. That aside from the fortune telling she did from her little cart. She drew in a handsome sum of money each day; not enough to save, but enough of live on for another week or so. The Players would be moving on soon. They never stayed in one place for very long. Eventually the people grew bored with the same routine and the money dried up. They were like the bedouins in the desert, constantly seeking the next oasis; the next pouch of coins.

The younger members of the band found the constant movement thrilling, and they never seemed to lack the energy necessary to take down the stage, the stalls, and pack up the wares in the carts and move on again. For Psyche it all felt the same, every land, every new face. What did it matter to her? Old Mariel had been leading the Players for several years now, but Psyche was her protegee and as Mariel grew older, Psyche's responsibilities grew vaster. It was a task Psyche felt she was not ready for, nor did she desire having.

The day wore on into evening and Psyche nearly tumbled into her cart, pulling off her heavy cloak and hood. She breathed a sigh of relief as the material fell from her shoulders. She brushed her hair, damp from sweat, out of her eyes. The closeness of the cart was almost cooling from the heat permeating outside.

There came a knock from outside. Psyche groaned, "The performance is over, come back tomorrow."

"It's Marian."

Psyche felt a jolt race through her, immediately she stood up straighter, shrugging her weariness away. She pulled open the door, taking a step back as she did so. "Why have you come back?" She asked, she paused as she noticed that Marian was not alone.

"Forgive me," Marian said, "if we have disturbed you."

"No disturbance." Psyche grunted, she pointed to Will. "Came to see if I was real and not a figment of your friend's imagination, hm?"

Will was taken aback at the woman's bluntness. "More or less." He remarked. "My name is Will Scarlett."

"And are you, Will Scarlett, as skeptical as your lover, the healer?" Psyche said, quickly darting her eyes over to Djaq.

"How did you know..."

"Sprits told me, naturally." Psyche said with a wolfish glint, smiling at Djaq.

Djaq muttered to Will, "Perhaps she noticed you were holding my hand, _love_." She emphasized especially for Psyche.

"I ask you again...what do you want?" Psyche insisted.

"I still have so many questions." Marian said quickly, "How did you know I was far from home? Why do you think I'm lost?"

"You're skin is pale white, you are out of place among the other Saracens." Psyche sighed, "And I never said you were lost."

"You did once before." Marian said.

Psyche felt another headache coming on. "I am not sure I can help you, and I am not sure you would even want the answers to your questions." She sighed seeing the eager light in Marian's eyes, "You had better come inside..." Relenting, she swung the door fully open, standing aside, she bid the strangers to enter.

* * *

**The next update will be sometime next week as I will be out of town for the holidays and my schedule will be all over the place. Do forgive the delay. :) And also, please remember to review, your comments are always appreciated! **


	6. Ambush

VI

Ambush

Night brought an advantage to the ship approaching the harbor. The advantage was solely for the passengers, not the crew. Anchoring a ship in the dead of night required sharp eyes and unique skills. In the dark there were no lights and no guidance into the harbor; however, the glow of the moon proved helpful in its own right and the ship was docked without complication.

Hardly was the anchor set down and the ropes tied off when Guy disembarked, the Sheriff close behind him. Guy was like a wolf on the hunt, he moved haphazardly and he constantly kept looking behind him as if paranoid his enemy was right behind him. If he was drunk he was past knowing it, he felt hyper aware of the night around him. Perhaps it had something to do with the unusually restful sleep he had had last night. He found it odd that he had been resting so well on the journey back to England. At first he had feared sleeping; dreading the nightmares that would have surely awaited him. But he could not even remember the last time he had dreamed. He merely slept and woke. It confused him, but he was far from caring over so simple a matter, his waking life provided enough of a nightmare, he had no desire to experience equal misery in his sleep.

There was a tavern close to the harbor and there was still a lantern aglow in the window. The Sheriff signaled that they would wait there for the next ship to arrive. Without acknowledging Vaysey Guy headed towards the tavern. He threw open the door without ceremony. One of the serving wenches gave a shrill scream at the sight of him. Standing aside without a word Guy let the Sheriff and the rest of the crew file in.

"Good evening." The Sheriff grinned oily to the man standing behind one of the far tables in the corner, "We'll be requiring lodgings for the night."

"O-o-of course, my lord!" The man said as soon as he managed to unstick his tongue.

The Sheriff carelessly dropped a large satchel onto one of the tables before him. The satchel clinked with the friendly sound of coins. "I believe this should be sufficient?" Vaysey drawled.

Immediately the man seemed to warm to the unexpected guests. He picked up the satchel, brought it to his ear and shook it to reassure himself of the coins inside. "Much obliged, my lord." he said with a grin, quickly looping the satchel onto his belt. "The rooms are right upstairs." He turned to one of the serving wenches, the one who had screamed, "You there, bring food and wine for our guests."

The woman jumped and went about her orders. While the wench was back in the kitchens and the man was once again seated at his corner table, busying himself counting his newly acquired coins the Sheriff and Gisborne also took a seat. "How long until the ship docks?" Guy barked roughly.

"The Captain said it was not but a few hours behind us." Vaysey explained briefly. "He has also agreed to help us with our 'outlaw problem.'" He grinned.

"But they're sailors." Guy said, confused.

"Men can become anything if the price is to their liking." The Sheriff shrugged, tapping his fingers upon the table top.

The serving woman returned with a tray full of bread, stew, and wine. She served the sailors first, making her way around them slowly, almost deliberately stalling for time. She endured their lewd calls and their attempts to grab at her almost as fast as they grabbed for the wine she was carrying.

Eventually she made her way over to the Sheriff and Gisborne. She placed the food and drink before Vaysey and averted her eyes when she went to serve Guy. Guy snatched at the offered wine, but rejected the food. The girl did not seek to persuade the man and swiftly took back the plate and bowl and scurried out of sight again.

The Sheriff chuckled, sipping at the wine daintily, "Look, Gisborne, it appears you've made a friend." he chuckled sarcastically as the woman fled.

Glaring at him darkly, Guy downed the goblet of wine in a blink of an eye. It was hardly anything. He would probably need more later. The Sheriff shook his head as if guessing his thoughts, "No more, Gisborne, I need you alert tonight. I can't have you fainting like a woman."

He was alert. He was more alert and awake then he had ever been in his life. In direct defiance to his lord's request he gestured for the serving girl to come over to him. She did so timidly and he could tell whenever she dared to glance up at him it was with repulsion and fear. He held out the goblet for her to refill with wine. She did so silently and without further command. She skittered away again. He scared her; somehow that amused him. He downed the second glass of wine with little effort. "Fine, Gisborne, do what you will, but if you do collapse do not expect me to carry you all the way back to Nottingham."

Guy smirked, he felt in good humor tonight. Robin Hood was coming closer and closer with each passing minute. Why shouldn't he be elated? He was going to win this time, there would be no way of stopping him. He would capture his enemy, drag him back to Nottingham, and make him pay...make him pay for everything that had happened.

He craned his head back around to stare at the serving girl. She happened to look up and something about the crazed look in his eyes must have frightened the living soul right out of her, for she dropped the dish she had been cleaning and it fell to the floor with a crash. Hastily she bent over to recover the broken shards of the ruined dish, almost grateful of the accident. The man berated her loudly for her clumsiness, but soon forgot about her mishap.

Guy watched the woman leave to throw out the plate shards. The woman was not entirely ugly. The night was going to be a long one, maybe she could be put to good use later. Immediately the thought was chased out of his head by images of Marian. His hands balled into clenched fists as he fought down a wave nausea and grief. Nevermind; in his crazed state he blamed the serving wench for bringing up memories of Marian. Forget using the girl, maybe he would content himself with breaking her neck instead.

***

Allan practically ran down towards the docks as he disembarked from the ship. He dashed passed the rest of the gang in his need to feel good, solid, sturdy land again. He reached the docks and fell to his knees; laughing. "Never in my life am I leaving England again if it means sailing on that floating death trap. Never again d'you lot hear me? Oh Lord, s'good t' be home."

"We aren't home yet, Allan." Much remarked with far greater solemnity than his friend.

It felt strange to arrive in England in the dead darkness of midnight, sneaking back home like thieves in the night. This should have been a moment of triumph. They should have been hailed as heroes, with the Sheriff and Gisborne dead in the Holy Land and Marian at Robin's side, celebrating with the rest of them. Now all about them was darkness and the cheers of victory were no more than the howling dirge of the wind around them.

Robin was bleary eyed from lack of sleep, yet his resolve was stronger than ever. Find the Sheriff and Gisborne and kill them. How he did not yet know, but he would not wait for the King's justice. He would see them die like the dogs they were. Robin tightened his grip on his bow, feeling the tendons in his hands and arms go taunt. He swallowed his rage for now, and slung the bow across his back.

"Robin." Little John grunted. "There's another ship docked nearby."

Robin turned to look at where Little John was pointing. The ship seemed like any other. Besides this was a harbor, where they supposed to be the only ships docked? Hardly likely. Robin shook his head. "This is a harbor, Little John, what did you expect to find? Think nothing of it."

"Are we going t' find lodgings for the night?" Allan asked.

"What? To tired to start marching back to Nottingham already, Allan?" Robin jeered.

"Look, I was just suggesting that...."

"Keep your mouth shut." Robin hissed.

"If it's going t' be like this from now on why keep me here, eh?" Allan snapped.

Little John banged his staff upon the wooden beams of the dock, "Enough." He said gruffly, "There's an inn nearby. Maybe if you two hadn't been at each others throats you would have noticed it."

Much cleared his throat nervously trying to salvage the gang's unity, "Come on, least we can do is check it out. I think we could do for a rest."

"Ain't you forgetting the fact that we don't have any money?" Allan sniffed.

"If the landlord is awake at this hour we camp elsewhere. If not I see no reason why we can't intrude upon his hospitality unawares?" Robin suggested with a sigh.

"Ye mean you want to jip 'im out of a night's rent?" Allan asked.

Robin nodded. Allan actually grinned, "Sounds like a plan."

With all the gang in agreement, Robin led them away from the docks towards the small, seaside village and the tavern inn near the outskirts. The lantern was still burning, but the flame was growing dimmer with each passing moment. Robin pushed open the doors gently and quietly, but even with his extra caution the doors creaked slightly, each noise seemed a hundred times louder to the gang's ears, causing them to wince at the sound.

Robin peered inside. The tables were deserted save for one, occupied by the landlord and he was fast asleep with a bottle of wine in one hand and a satchel of coins in the other. Seeing that they were clear to enter, Robin signaled for the others to file in after him.

The tavern was warm and seemed like heaven after being cooped up in small rickety cabins for nearly two months. The gang settled themselves down around one of the tables. They would sleep in shifts, each shift would watch the landlord for signs of waking. If the landlord woke the man on guard would wake the others and they would be gone before any knew of their presence.

Allan leaned back against the chair, putting his feet up onto the table. He sighed gratefully, closing his eyes. Much took a seat next to him, burying his head in his arms he seemed to drift off to sleep instantly. Little John glanced about warily, he had been on his guard since he had first caught a glimpse of the ship docked beside their own. Slowly though his head nodded and he fell asleep still sitting up in his chair.

Robin was on first watch. He did not sit, instead he paced around the room, quietly, but like a caged lion. He would probably not sleep at all tonight. He was needed here, and dreams only brought with them misery upon misery. He did not expect much trouble and he was almost lulled into a state of waking peace as he paced back and forth and back and forth...

***

Guy felt jarred awake by some unexplainable force. Someone was sitting near him in the room. He blinked, the features of the inn's room were oddly distorted, as if he could not focus in on any one thing at all.

Perched in a chair sat the hooded woman who was staring at him with her shrouded head tilted to one side. _Can you see me?_ She seemed to be asking of him.

Was he dreaming? He must be. He rubbed his eyes as if to clear them, but the faded and blurry images stayed as they were. This must be a dream if the hooded woman was sitting with him. He was quite close to her, and yet he still could not see her face. That bothered him, he could feel ice fall down his spine as he looked at the faceless woman.

_Can you see me?_ She asked again.

Guy nodded that he could. "What do you want?" He croaked.

_What do you want?_ She retorted with emphasis.

"For you to go away." Guy growled.

_If I could I would_. The woman answered.

"You will. I intend to ignore you until you disappear." Guy said, falling back down against the bed.

_When I try that with you you don't disappear._ The woman seemed to be laughing at him.

Guy did not respond, he rolled over onto his side, facing away from the woman. He heard the woman sigh. For a time there was no sound, and Guy thought the woman had disappeared as he had planned. He turned over to check, only to find that the woman was leaning over the side of the bed slightly, one arm outstretched slightly as if she was reaching for him. She recoiled from him immediately as if she had extended her hand over an open flame.

_No more dreams_. She seemed to say in a shaky voice. Her hands went to either side of her head, as if she was in some minor pain. _No more_, she said again, as if wishing for something to end.

Suddenly the dream shifted and the woman was gone in a blink of an eye. He felt himself slipping back into a comfortable and quiet darkness. He awoke with a start although he did not know why. He had slept without nightmares, or if he did dream he found he did not remember any of it.

He practically rolled off of the bed. He had not meant to fall asleep. He was supposed to be on guard. From beyond the door he heard a slight commotion going on outside. He opened the door a crack, peering out down the dimly lit hall. The serving girl from earlier that evening was being backed into a corner by two of the sailors, both obviously drunk. The girl was clutching her chest as she tried desperately to conceal herself, her dress had apparently ripped in a previous scuffle.

She cowered on the floor near the wall, huddling against herself and shaking in fear. The two men laughed, lust was heavy in their blood shot eyes. There was no doubt as to their intentions towards the woman.

"Leave her alone." Guy said in slurred, rough speech.

The two sailors stopped their assault momentarily, turning to look at Guy. "'S ain't yer business." One said. They turned their attentions back towards the woman.

"I said," Guy growled, striding over to the men and wrenching one away from the girl by grabbing his wrist, "leave her alone."

"We don't want any trouble, now." The sailor warned.

"Then get back to your rooms." Guy ordered. "Now."

The sailor wrenched his wrist out of Guy's grasp. "All right, all right," he slurred, raising his hands in submission. "We're going...ain't worth our time anyway."

As the sailors retreated to their rooms Guy remained with the woman. "Get up." He grunted, unmoved by her fright. He didn't quite know why he had bothered to help the woman in the first place, but something in the predatory way the sailors had advanced on her had roused some amount of repulsion in him. He had merely wanted to deter the sailor's perverse fun, not aid the victimized woman.

The serving girl rose to her feet, head lowered. Guy took a step towards her, and she immediately back away from him. Perhaps she assumed he had only wanted her alone so that he might have her all for himself, she had had experience in those matters before. "I am not going to hurt you." Guy snapped unconvincingly.

She continued backing up, getting dangerously close to the stairway. "Come away; you'll fall." Guy warned.

"Keep away from me!" The girl finally shrieked, nearly loosing her balance in the process.

Guy reached out instinctively to steady the woman on her feet. Couldn't she tell he didn't care enough about her to bother hurting her? But what good what it be if she fell down the stairs and broke her neck merely out of spite towards him?

The woman wrenched backwards away from him for fear he might think to touch her. She fell; tumbling head over heels down the staircase. She never had a chance to scream. She lay crumpled and awkward at the base of the stairs. Guy felt the world spin before his eyes. The woman had fallen down the stairs rather than let him help her up. She had hated him that much. _I would rather die than be with you, Guy of Gisborne!_ Marian's haunting words rang through his heads like a taunting laugh. It was true. She had been right; everyone would rather die then be near him. Was he that damned and despised?

He felt as if he would be violently ill. He placed a hand upon the wall to steady himself. The woman was dead, no doubt. Her head was tilted at an unnatural angle and one of her legs bent in an inhuman position. She was dead. He had killed her. That was all he was good for; killing. Foolish of him, to even try and help that woman. He would never attempt anything like it again.

As the sickening feeling passed, his common sense returned. He would have to move the body. He could not let it just sit there upon the stairs to await discovery by the landlord. Cautiously he made his way down the staircase, feeling each step as another measure deeper into Hell.

He pulled the contorted corpse of the woman away from the lantern's glow and into the shadowy safety of the stairwell; fighting down the taste of bile as it rose in the back of his throat. It was then that he heard the door to the inn creak open. Hastily he pulled himself around the corner to avoid detection.

Even though the sound of whispered voices was curious, Guy dared not risk peering around the corner to see the late guests. He heard the scrapping of chair legs and surmised that they had no intention of making their way up to the rooms. He was safe for now.

One sound did remain contest and that was the continued sound of footsteps as they paced back and forth. For the most part there was not further noise. Guy was trapped. He could not walk back up the stairs without alerting the stranger of his presence. He waited for a time; until he was certain he heard the heavy breathing of sleep and that the pacing had at last ceased.

Now he turned his head, only a little, to see who the intruders were. Three men were asleep around a table, heads buried in their arms; there was no recognizing them. Another man sat off in the corner, and he was wide away and staring.

Guy's eyes widened. Who should he find unwary, tired, and unguarded this late at night but Robin Hood himself? He transferred the remainder of his guilt towards his unintentional murder of the serving woman into rekindled anger towards Robin. Something animalistic unleashed itself within him. He drew forth the small, curved, dagger he always kept with him and slowly he emerged from his hiding place.

Robin's back was towards him so he moved unnoticed. His heart was pounding loudly and he could hear it in his ears. He must restrain himself. He could not kill him now, but oh, how tempting it was! There was no one to stop him from slitting Robin's throat here and now, but he remembered his promises of giving Robin a slower death then a mere execution. That would be far more satisfying.

Licking his lips anxiously Guy loomed like a demonic shadow over Robin, knife raised as if to deliver a killing strike. Instead Guy merely pressed the sharp, cold blade up against Robin's neck, careful to only draw a droplet of blood. He heard Robin inhale sharply in sudden panic. Guy smirked, "Gotcha." he hissed murderously.

* * *

**Now I can sleep for days. I've been up practically four days straight, subsisting on about three hours of sleep a night...hurriedly trying to finish this chapter and finish a few other chapters for other stories and fics. There will be errors I'm sure in this chapter...I will edit them later. XD I do apologize for the delay in getting this chapter posted; Thanksgiving holiday threw me off track, but I will do my best to get back on schedule for you. :) **

**As always, remember to review!  
**


	7. Joining the Band

VII

Joining the Band

Psyche dropped unceremoniously onto the edge of her little cot and, looking up at her unusual guests, she gestured indifferently for them to make themselves comfortable. She brushed aside a few damp locks of hair from her forehead.

"Aren't you hot?" Djaq asked, the first to notice the woman's apparent fatigue.

"I am quite comfortable I assure you." Psyche said in a quipped tone, promptly ending Djaq's inquisitions about her well being.

Marian sat cross legged upon the floor of the cart, but Psyche's cot was hardly raised from the floor that the two were practically staring eye to eye. Eventually, both Will and Djaq joined her.

"You have questions?" Psyche prompted.

"How did you know my name? And give me the truth this time." Marian asked.

Psyche actually chuckled, "You are demanding for one who pleads to know answers to questions you should hardly be asking in the first place. Why should I tell you anything?"

"Because you are just as curious as I am." Marian surmised, "Otherwise you would not have let me in."

Psyche's hand clenched involuntarily in her lap and a strained smile appeared on her face. "You are a most curious woman."

"Answer my question." Marian said, this time in a more demanding tone.

"I heard your name spoken in a dream." Psyche said swiftly.

"But I never told you my name in my dream." Marian insisted.

"You were not in it." Psyche said.

"Then..."

"Ask me another question." Psyche said sharply.

"But..."

"Marian," Djaq insisted, noticing the slight panic in Psyche's eyes, "Ask the woman a different question."

Marian lowered her head, a flush creeping over her cheeks at being chastised before a stranger. "Fine then. Why do you think I am lost?"

"You must be a Lady of some sort." Psyche mused, "You do not ask questions, you demand them." She received her answer by the stunned silence which passed after her revelation. "Shall I address you by your title? Would that make you more or less inclined to speak to me civilly?"

Djaq snorted, and promptly covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed briefly at the woman's bold statement. Marian blushed deeply, "My apologies, I did not mean offense."

Seeing that she had been genuinely unaware of the tone she had taken with her, Psyche shrugged the apology aside, she wouldn't be the first noble to speak to her obliviously and she would not be the last. "You are unsure of yourself." Psyche said, she felt so odd speaking to her so bluntly, she was used to the mumbo jumbo she gave to her private clients, but Marian was not just a client; she was dream made real. She dared not treat her as anything but unusual. "You have a look in your eyes that is troublesome; you worry for someone. A lover."

"You seem certain of that." Marian countered.

"Defensive now? Perhaps not a lover but a recent husband?" Psyche said, raising an eyebrow.

"That is uncanny." Will whistled.

"I do try." Psyche grunted sarcastically. "Well? Which is it?" She said directly to Marian.

Marian hung her head, "A husband..."

"Much missed, I am sorry for opening fresh wounds. I can see you want to return to him soon. That is why I say you are lost." Psyche concluded.

"Do you have a lover then?" Marian asked, "You speak as if you know what it's like to be apart from one."

Psyche went as white as a sheet. "No." She said very quietly, "I have nobody."

Marian seemed to jump at the woman's last statement. "What..." she breathed, "What did you say....?"

"I think you should go." Psyche said rising like a shot to her feet, "I think you should leave and not come back."

"Wait," Marian exclaimed, "I apologize, if I offended you. Please, I need to know if..."

"I said you should go." Psyche whispered. "I'm not a seer, I have no magical ability to divine the future. I can not help you. I do not know why you continue to ask me. Please leave."

Djaq ushered Will and Marian to their feet, urging them towards the door. Marian turned back to glance at Psyche, noticing for the first time how haggard the woman looked. "Thank you." She found herself saying, "For even allowing me so little a chance to ask you my questions."

Psyche looked up, surprised to hear thanks given. "I wish you luck on your journey home." She said softly.

Marian nodded, trying hard not to stare directly into Psyche's eyes. A storm was whirling in their depths. She seemed to know more and feel more then she let on. Why? If she had a gift why wouldn't she want the the world to know of it? And she had such freedom, most women never were given such lengths, she could do whatever she wished. Why did she enclose herself in her little cart and refuse the company of one who craved her position?

Djaq took her arm and led her from the cart. The connection was broken as soon as the door was shut behind them. Will exhaled slowly, "Would someone be so kind as to tell me what exactly happened in there?"

"Perhaps we would have found out more if Marian had not been so rude." Djaq sighed.

"I apologized!" Marian said, "Besides, I didn't mean to insult her, I'm not even sure what I said wrong!"

"I'm not entirely certain you did anything wrong, Marian." Will said, "That woman gave me the chills."

"The same with me." Djaq nodded, "I say we take her advice and never seek her out again."

Marian agreed with a heavy heart. It was not as if she had chosen to have the dream about Psyche. It was given to her. Whether by an act of God or of a magic yet unknown. Marian was not a great a believer in fate, but there was some otherworldly about that woman; the way she could conjure up memories and emotions with simple glances and phrases. It was not enough; she had to know more. There was always an answer, always a clue. What was she? Who was she? She had to find out, and one way or another she would find Psyche again.

***

Joshua was lounging around again. It was almost time to move on and there was already a lull pervading the camp. People had stopped coming by to see their shows as regularly as before. Most of the wares had been bought and some of the stalls had already been dismantled and stowed. The stage was always the last to go; and Joshua was taking his time in getting around to it. As it stood, the sun was hot and the day was long, and as far as he was concerned the world was his paradise.

He had finished sharing a few drinks with a few of his fellow performers and he was making his way through the main circle of wagons with a flask in his hands. The one lone wagon on the outskirts of the camp caught his eye. He made his way past the mess the center of camp had become. Loose boards, bundles of ribbon, scattered ashes from long dead fires all littered the sand. Evidently Joshua wasn't the only lazy one in camp today. He grinned, kicking at a few pieces of lumber shamelessly.

He made his way up the small ladder towards the door of the wagon. Before announcing his presence he licked at the palm of his hand and ran it through his sandy hair in an attempt to smooth it down. It made little difference in his scruffy appearance. He cleared his throat, stood up straighter, pulled at the collar of his tunic to ease the wrinkles in the fabric, and knocked twice in quick succession.

"Who wants me?" A voice inside demanded.

"A shameless admirer who would have you as his own." Joshua said, deepening his voice.

"Joshua, get in here you rogue." The door was opened to him immediately. "What do you want you snake tongued charmer?"

Psyche was friendly to very few of the Players, Joshua had been a favorite of hers since he had first joined the band. He was far younger than her and she viewed him like a younger brother. Only he could have gained entrance to her private quarters so swiftly and so amiably.

"I thought that, it being such a hot day you might appreciate something cool to drink." Joshua tossed her the flask he had been holding so preciously.

Grinning slightly Psyche uncorked the flask and took a sip. "Lemon tea? And with honey. Thank you."

"It's not as good as yours, but I thought," he shrugged, "you might enjoy it anyway."

"It was just what I needed." She took another draught, the chilled drink soothed her raw throat. "Now, what is it that you want?"

"Nothing." Joshua said, "Still have the ol' chess board lying around?"

"Somewhere in this mess, I'm sure." Psyche laughed.

"Have time to play a game?" Joshua winked.

For him she had all the time in the world. He was the only one in the entire band who treated her as a friend and not some mystic with all the answers of the world in her head. "Up for another beating?" Psyche chuckled, as she rummaged through her trunks, searching for the chess board and the pieces.

"I've been practicing." Joshua puffed out his chest.

"I'm sure you have." Psyche mumbled. "All right then, rogue," she laid out the chess board and tumbled out the subsequent pieces from their cases, "On your guard."

***

It was, perhaps, easy to forget the dangerous situation of Acre amid the constant flow of the people. Life seemed to continue moving at a steady pace for the common people, but it was not always so simple for some. There were still the soldiers to contend with, and it did not matter what banner they rode under or to whom they pledged their allegiance. They were the enemy.

Gabrielle had not returned to the Player's camp that evening. She was always back before the sun set, she was never late and she was well known to be a girl with a good head on her shoulders. She would not have gotten herself into mischief. Mariel sent out a small search party. If she was still out there, they would find her.

Through the twisting maze of allies and street corners it was a wonder anyone could find their way through the city. One girl charged on alone, heedless of where she went. At first she had tried to steer her way towards the market square, but the sun was dipping down and it was not as crowded and dense as it had been merely hours before. Cursing her bad luck she thought to lose her would be attackers through the back allies, but the strategy had a double edge, she may be gaining ground, but she was also growing hopelessly lost.

Gabrielle was not a girl of great strength or speed. She was tiring now, but one glimpse of chain mail, and a white tunic with a red cross marked upon the cloth, spurred her into frenzied action once more. She must not be taken by them. She would not become a slave.

Twisting down one corridor and into another she managed to find three citizens enjoying, what appeared to be a casual stroll back to their homes after a day at the market. Gabrielle would have laughed in delight if she had any air left in her lungs to spare.

She ran lightly over to the figures, careful to let her feet trip lightly over the sandy ground so as to not alert her unsuspecting saviors of her presence. She walked immediately behind one of the three, a woman only an inch or so taller than herself. She kept herself close to them, as if she was the fourth counterpart to their trio. With any luck the Knights would assume just that.

She folded her arms into her cloak, ducking her head down. She made as if to listen intently to the conversation.

"There is still the matter of returning to England." The woman directly in front of Gabrielle mentioned.

"Surely it would be easy to pay for passage on a ship?" A man to the woman's left remarked.

"Oh? And tell me, Will, how much money do we have at our disposal?" Another woman remarked.

"We could just as easily stow ourselves away." The woman before Gabrielle grunted miserably.

"That's the most brilliant thing I've ever heard." The other woman snorted.

"Are you good for nothing but sarcastic comments, Djaq?"

"When you come up with something a little less insane and a bit more rational, I shall of course be all seriousness."

The man cleared his throat abruptly, causing the two bickering women to cease their argument and look up at him. He pointed ever so subtly to the ground and tilted his head, encouraging them to look behind. Immediately Gabrielle found herself flipped face down onto the ground with a rather angry woman pinning her arms behind her back. "Who are you?" She snarled.

"Please..." Gabrielle coughed, having the wind taken out of her at the sudden attack. "I mean you no harm."

"No? Are you a spy? What do you do here? Who else knows of your presence?" The woman continued to hound her with sudden questions.

"Please let me go. I swear I meant no harm. Only a moment's protection." Gabrielle babbled.

"Oh, let the girl up. She's unarmed." Djaq snapped.

"She could be one of the Black Knights." The woman hissed. "I say we kill her now and save ourselves the trouble later."

"No, please!" Gabrielle moaned, "I was only seeking to hide from the soldiers! I swear, I swear, I meant no harm."

"If you're so innocent why would you need to hide from the soldiers?" Will asked, crouching down to stare at the girl.

"Because not everyone is so safe in this city!" Gabrielle spat.

"The soldiers are here to provide protection." The woman spat.

"Maybe for you and your kind!" Gabrielle spat back, "Please let me go and I will leave you in peace, I swear."

"Why should we believe you?" The woman questioned, although her grip upon her arms slackened off somewhat.

Gabrielle gave a frustrated mewling sound. "If you intend to kill me regardless why should I bother to lie? I am not a danger to you. I am a singer in the Players of Dionysus!"

"Let her up, Marian, before you choke her, sitting on her like that." Djaq asked.

Reluctantly Marian let Gabrielle to her feet. The girl coughed and spluttered, rubbing her chest ruefully. She whirled around constantly as if half expecting to see soldiers rushing over to her at any minute. "Thank you." She mumbled half heartedly.

"The soldiers wouldn't attack a mere stage performer without cause." Will stated, "What did you do to provoke them?"

"I prayed to close to their patrol grounds. Apparently my Hebrew is offensive to their delicate ears." Gabrielle said brazenly, brushing the sand off of her plain grey gown.

"'You're Jewish?" Djaq asked curiously.

"Do you intend to hand me over to the soldiers, then?" Gabrielle asked, ignoring Djaq's observation.

"Why would we do that?" Marian snorted.

"Obviously, because I'm a heretic." Gabrielle laughed, baring her teeth wolfishly.

"Well, in that case I will tell you are a free to...."

"There she is!" A cry came from down the ally. "I found the girl." Two Knights came out from around the corner and made their approach.

"Oh no..." Gabrielle's face paled,

"Stay where you are." Will grabbed her hand.

"No, you will turn me in! Let me go!" Gabrielle shrieked.

"Silent, girl, I warn you. If you listen to us you may leave to sing another day." Will hissed urgently. "Trust me."

As if on cue, Marian drew herself up to full height, every inch the offended noble Lady. The soldiers slowed their pace as they saw her, suddenly unsure of the situation. "So I see I have you to thank for the safe return of my servant." She said.

"I...we where...that is...pardon, my lady?" The knight spluttered, completely unprepared for the statement.

"My servant. She ran off late this afternoon, I alerted the guard not but a few moments ago and here I find her back again and with you and your companion following close behind. If I must not thank you, then who do I owe my gratitude?" Marian blinked expectantly.

"Ah...I see, has that..." the knight's face was crinkled in confusion, "solved the matter then?"

"It has." Marian stated firmly.

"Pardon, my lady." The other soldier stepped in, obviously less convinced then his counterpart. "I have not seen you before tonight. Who is your husband?"

Marian smiled restrainedly, "I wonder that you do not know him as you are under the command of King Richard. My husband is the Lord Robin of Locksley, a Knight in the King's Guard. I myself am Lady Marian."

"Forgive us, my lady. We were unaware that..."

"You may relay a message to the King for me, inform him that I know my husband has recently made for sail for England and that I am well and will be following him soon." Marian said suddenly and with far less restraint then before.

"Of course, my lady." The knight bowed. "If...if that is all..."

"It is. You may leave me and my company." Marian said with a bow of her head.

"Right....good evening, Lady Locksley." The knights took their leave.

Marian breathed out heavily, lowering her head as if a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Will began laughing, "Stroke of luck there. If the King hears of this he's sure to send a message to Robin."

"Josh!" Gabrielle's sudden cry alerted the trio to a second presence among them. Gabrielle broke free of Will's hand and dashed over into the arms of a rather worried looking young man.

"Knew you'd be all right." He said, relieved, spinning the girl around in his arms before setting her down on her feet again.

"You found her." It was Psyche, she was holding a torch and standing behind Josh, rather protectively.

Recovering quickly Marian managed, "Rather...she found us."

Psyche looked down, at a loss for what to say. There came from behind the small search party the gnarled form of Old Mariel. She hobbled out from behind the group, her walking stick beating a steady rhythm. She placed a hand upon Gabrielle's head. "I am well, Grandmother." the girl said quietly.

"You saved her life." Mariel said gratingly.

Marian said nothing, seemingly stunned into silence along with Psyche. Mariel tapped her stick upon the ground three times, in thought. "What do you require in return."

"Nothing." Djaq stated, placing a hand upon Marian's shoulder, "We are pleased the girl is unhurt, we will leave you now."

Marian raised an eyebrow, curious to the strange offer. Psyche seemed to be willing them to go on their way, silently. She bit her lip, but said nothing. Marian removed Djaq's hand from her shoulder and took a step forward. She seemed hesitant at first, as if she was contemplating turning around again. She shook her head, but then raised it. "Your pardon, old woman, for this request as odd as it might seem is one borne of ultimate desperation."

"Marian what in the world are you doing?" Djaq hissed, tugging at her.

She ignored her, "My friends and I," she gestured behind her, "Require safe passage to England. You are a traveling people...might we go with you on your journeys?"

"_What?!" _Both Will, Djaq, and Psyche all exclaimed at once.

Marian turned back to her friends, "We have no money and they just offered us anything we required. Well? Do we not require a means of getting home?" She hissed.

"But Marian we don't even know them!" Djaq snapped.

"We don't even know if they can take us to England." Will countered.

"Granted!" Mariel's rough, booming voice broke through the ensuing argument.

"No!" Psyche said loudly. "Absolutely not."

"Why? Does the man not seem able enough to help with the others? You said yourself the Saracen was a healer...and that other one..."

"Is a noblewoman and a dreamer!" Psyche snapped, interrupting her mentor.

"You shall get along well then." Mariel barked.

"You can't be serious." Psyche hissed.

"Whilst I still live and breathe, my dear, my word is still law." Mariel said flatly. "They saved the life of our Gabrielle. Do we not owe them some courtesy?"

"Give them jewelry or money then." Psyche spat.

"Gabrielle is worth so little to you?" Mariel said and Psyche hung her head, shamed at her words.

Mariel sighed, shaking her head at her protegee, she turned her attentions back to the waiting trio, "Gather your belongings and meet us back at the circle in the market. We will be awaiting your arrival. In the morning we depart."

"Understood." Marian nodded.

"Do not be late." Psyche said imperiously, "Or we will leave without you."

"I am never late." Marian said, eyeing her back mischievously.

"See that you aren't." Psyche said, thoroughly annoyed at the woman. She turned on her heels, her cloak flashing in the glow of the torch she carried. She followed Mariel, Josh, and Gabrielle down the ally way.

"She's mad." Djaq whistled, "Her and the old woman and the girl...the whole lot of them. Lunatics and thieves. Marian what have you gotten us into?"

"I've gotten us a way home." She sighed, turning back to them she placed an arm around Will and Djaq's shoulders. "Now, come, you heard the woman...we must not be late!"

* * *

**Right, now the journey can properly begin. :) Do drop a review and tell me what you think. Next part should be around next week or so. **


	8. Prisoners

**Sorry for the delay everyone! The holidays have really thrown me off track. I thank you all for your patience and I sincerely hope this chapter makes up for my inexcusable delay. :)

* * *

**

VIII

Prisoners

The cold blade pressed against Robin's neck and immediately he cursed himself for his own stupidity. How could he have let his guard down? How could he not have foreseen that this might have been a trap? There was the smallest of pains as the knife cut into the sensitive flesh of the throat. A sudden line of warmth as he felt a drop of blood spill down his skin. There was a cruel, crazed snicker from behind him. "Gotcha." Guy of Gisborne, there was no mistaking that smug sound.

His entire body tensed as he fought his predicament. He would kill him, he would not waste another second. He rocked in his chair and the knife only dug further into his throat. Robin hissed in frustration. "What's the matter, Gisborne." Robin panted, "Afraid to fight me?"

"Oh far from it, Hood." Guy growled. "But death is much too quick for you, and I've waited too long for it. I will see you suffer."

"You won't get the chance." Robin spat.

Suddenly the knife was thrust further against his throat and he gulped, the warm, sticky feel of his blood intensifying. "You won't wake your gang, Hood, not unless you want to die here and now. It won't be quick, either. I'll cut your throat and leave you to bleed. How long do you think you'll last before you choke to death on your own blood? Should we try it and see?"

"Coward." Robin hissed. He wanted nothing more than to to turn around and face him. He wanted to wrap his hands around his neck and wring the life right out of him. He wanted to see the look in his eyes as he took his life.

"Insults will get you nowhere, Hood." Guy snickered, "You've lost. Don't you see that? You'll be coming back to Nottingham with us, and once we return I will make you watch as I work your precious people into the dirt. I will punish every man, woman, and child for your crimes. Everyone you love, everyone you care for, I will kill."

"You've gotten off to a fine start already." Robin choked out, "Was Marian's death not satisfaction enough?" It pained him to use her name as a means to insult Gisborne. He could feel his shame rise in the back of his throat.

"Don't," Guy hissed brokenly, shoving the point of the blade against Robin's throat, "don't you say that name."

"What's the matter, Gisborne? Can't stand to hear the names of your victims? I thought you would be proud to know who you've killed so successfully." Robin spat back with equal broken tones. There stood as two injured men driving their blades into their dying bodies repeatedly. There would be no end to the agony, there could be only death.

"Shut up, Hood." Guy snapped. The knife shook in his hand. Hearing Marian's name on Robin's lips was like a dagger to his ribs. Robin had been Marian's lover; her betrothed. The name belonged to him. How many times had he whispered her name to her? How many times had they held each other in their arms, laughing over how well they had Gisborne fooled!

Marian should have been his! She should have been on that ship with him back to England. She should have been here now to come up behind him, lay her hand upon his back and draw him away from this nightmare. The knife shook once again, as Guy, in his madness, half expected to hear the gentle approach of Marian; to hear her inquire in a panicked, yet strong tone, on what was going on. Oh God, he wanted her now! He needed her. It was a sudden, fleeting urge; very much like a child's whim. The intensity of that yearning died almost as quickly as it came and Guy was once again returned to the task at hand.

He was just in the process of devising a way to tie Robin to the chair when the glow of a lantern fell upon them. Robin winced and closed eyes against the sudden brightness. Guy froze like a thief in the night.

"Whose out there?" It was the landlord come down to see where the voices which had disturbed his slumber were coming from. "If ye be outlaw or thief I warn ye to clear out sharp like!" The man boomed.

The lantern light bobbed up and down as the landlord descended the staircase. There came a slight cry and a muttered prayer as he discovered the mangled body of the serving wench. Guy cursed and whirled about, locking eyes with the horrified man. The landlord must have thought he was staring into the shadowy figure of the Devil himself. Guy blinked up at him only once. The man barely had time to utter a cry for help when, with an almost indifferent glance, Guy threw the knife at the landlord. The man was dead before he hit the floor, the only sound out of him was the thump his body made as he landed next to the serving girl's corpse.

"Dropped your guard, Gisborne!" Robin shouted suddenly, springing up from the chair and kicking it over. He lunged for the man.

They fell, grappling with one another. Robin tried to get his hands to Guy's throat. He would kill him now. Guy kicked him, sending him toppling off of him. Pinning him down with one arm, Guy wailed into him, sending down punch after punch. It felt exceedingly good to release that demonic rage. He didn't care how hard he hit Robin, if he broke bones he only hoped they would be too numerous to count. He could feel Robin's blood on his knuckles and that only seemed to fuel his fury.

Somewhere in this Robin managed to recover his strength. He threw himself sideways, knocking Guy off balance. "My gang!" Robin roared, desperate to wake the rest of his men. "My gang, to me!"

"Huh—whuzzat?" Allan nearly fell off of his chair at Robin's shout.

"Master!" Much shouted as he sprang out of his chair to rush over to Robin.

Thinking quickly, Guy grabbed Robin in a headlock and drew his sword. "Come any closer and he dies." He snarled.

Much halted immediately. Little John, lumbered over, both hands gripping his quarter staff. He did not seem to heed Gisborne's warning, thinking, perhaps, it would be far easier to knock him out where he stood. They stood at a stalemate. Robin struggled, "What are you waiting for?" He hissed, "Kill him!"

There was complete silence from his gang. Guy chuckled, "They aren't going to kill me, Robin. They know if they do you'll be dead before me, and they just can't _bare_ to lose their precious leader."

"Damn you, Gisborne." Robin spat, struggling to get out of the fierce hold Guy held him in, he dug his fingers into the leather glove, as if hoping to somehow break through the material and tear at him.

"Already done, Hood, there is no point in damning me further." Guy said blankly.

"What in the name of bloody hell is going on?" The Sheriff's voice carried with it's usual harsh ringing tone. "Aside from a massacre?" He added as he hopped over the dead serving girl and the landlord.

Little John seemed about ready to lunge for the unsuspecting man, but Guy jabbed Robin with the point of the sword. Little John stayed his ground reluctantly.

"Well, well, well..." The Sheriff chuckled as he circled Guy and Robin, "Look who dropped in for the night? Well done, Gisborne, you're finally proving useful after all."

Guy did not even seem to hear the slight, "Should we wake the men and have these outlaws shackled, my lord?"

"You think you can stop us so easily?" Robin snarled.

The Sheriff laughed, "Correct, my boy, I do not think it. I have already done it." He made his way back up the stairs to alert the rest of their company to the prisoners down below.

Robin bit back a scream of frustration and rage, while slowly a crooked and twisted grin broke through upon Guy's face.

***

"Look, Giz, you don't have t' do this!" Allan hissed as his hands were shackled behind his back and attached to a lead of rope which connected him to the shackles of the rest of the gang.

"You think you have the right to tell me what to do?" Guy growled.

"Yeah, actually, I do. Considering I've been working w' ya for nearly a year." Allan said boldly.

"Don't insult me." Guy said, tying of the rope.

"I ain't." Allan snapped, "But Robin'll escape. He always does."

"Is that why you chose his side? Because he always wins? Because he's always right? How very noble of you, traitor."

"No. I went back t' him because he was gonna die, an' he's my friend Giz. Now I'm telling you he's sworn t' kill you and he will one day." Allan said, rubbing his wrists together to ease the raw pain radiating from the vice like grip of the shackles.

"Are you bargaining with me? Should I let you escape and let you back into my service again so that you could convince Robin not to kill me?" Guy chuckled murderously, "You made the mistake of betraying me, Allan, and you know what happens to those who betray me. They die."

"You were my friend once." Allan said, eyes hardening, "I mean, ya could've been. You ain't that different from Robin, Guy. If you let me, we could--"

He was rewarded with a swift slap from Guy. "Don't compare me to Robin. I am _nothing_ like him."

Allan stared dejectedly at the wood floor, "I can see that, Giz." He said quietly, he stared up at him, eyes narrowed, "I won't make that mistake again..."

"You will die with your _friends_. That was the choice you made, Allan." Finishing securing him in his bonds, Guy stormed away from his one-time ally.

There was silence for a moment before Allan kicked out in frustration. He leaned his head back against the wall behind him, breathing out in an attempt to calm himself.

"How can you talk to him like that?" Much asked, groaning as he opened his eyes. He had made the mistake of fighting with one of the sailors and he was given a blow to the head for his troubles. Allan had assumed he was still knocked out. His shackles shook as he turned about to face him.

"I...er...jus' can, I suppose." Allan shrugged.

"He's evil. You can't trust him." Much mumbled a bit disoriented.

"Yeah, but sometimes ye can." Allan mused, "Like me, Much, you don't trust me do you?"

"No. Don't trust you at all.." Much sighed as she slipped back into a dazed state.

Allan laughed derisively, "Doesn't surprise me."

He sighed, and looked side to side. He was chained next to Much and Little John. From his position he could see Robin on the end of the chain; head down and eyes closed. He looked as if he had lost all hope. Allan gulped, Robin never lost hope. Even in his grief for Marian he had still held onto the fact that once they returned to England they would have their revenge. Now he looked like a broken man. If Robin had lost his way then they were all lost.

Just then he felt something slide down his sleeve. He frowned, and maneuvered his fingers about to pull down on the metallic object. A lock pick. Allan felt a rush of elation course through him. Of course! He always kept a lock pick on him, how could he have forgotten! Hurriedly he tried to twist his hands about to jam the pick into the lock. He would escape; he would get them all out of here. There was still time, there was still hope!

***

Guy had only just fallen back to sleep when he found himself dreaming again. He was acutely aware that he was alone. There was no hooded woman and there were no unspoken voices. It was both comforting and terrifying. He felt as if he was waiting for something. If he was going to have a nightmare it had best happen already; the expectation of one was more horrific then the actual dream.

_You are coming into focus._

The sound of the hooded woman's voice caused him to turn. He could see her, but the usual fog which surrounded her was missing. He narrowed his eyes. He could almost make her out now. She wasn't made of blackness, as he had previously assumed, she was dressed in black. For the first time he could make out her figure. She was no longer made of shadows and nightmares. "So are you." He said.

_You scare me._ She stood directly opposite of him, hands at her sides. Try as he might to catch a glimpse of her from under her hood he found only darkness. Her features were still obscured from his view.

"Why?" He asked her simply.

_Must I have a reason?_ If she was toying with him she was doing a remarkably good job. Was he going mad? He was arguing with a figment of his own imagination. He shook his head, refusing to answer her question.

He looked down at her hands and realized they were gloved. He reached out suddenly to take hold of her hand, just out of pure curiosity. What would a dream figure feel like? Would there be any sensation at all, or would she be all smoke and dust?

Immediately upon touching her the woman let out a hissing sound, like a frightful cat. She sprang back, rubbing her wrist as if he had burned her. She had felt like smooth velvet. Did all things in dreams feel as such or was it just her?

_You must not do that_. She said shakily. _Never do that..._

"I'll do what I like." Why should this woman think she had any control over what he would or would not do?

_And that is why you scare me_. The woman replied a little sorrowfully. She turned her back on him and walked away, disappearing into the darkness. Guy did not bother giving chase. The figure would come again, it always did. He would never admit it, but he was just as terrified of her as she was of him.

***

With a final twist Allan felt the lock give a heartening click as the shackles loosened and fell off of his wrists. He muttered a silent prayer, something he had never done before in his life. Quickly, he set about to unlocking the chains upon his ankles as well. The man standing watch had fallen asleep, fancy the Sheriff leaving the idiot there. He rose to his feet quietly.

"Robin." He whispered. The man gave no response. "Robin!" he tried again.

"What...?" Robin snapped his head up suddenly.

"I'm free." Allan hissed triumphantly.

Robin looked up at him. Allan heard him mumble something under his breath. He knelt down beside him, "I'm gonna get you out."

"It's nearly dawn." Robin said.

"Sorry 'bout that. Took a while to get this pick to spring the lock." Allan said sincerely as he jammed the lock pick into the shackles about Robin's wrists. "Have you outta here soon enough though, then I'll set on the others."

"Shouldn't have doubted you." Robin swore suddenly.

"Nah, don't think like that." Allan shrugged, "If you let it go, I'll let it go."

"I wish everything could be as simple as you make it sound." Robin sighed.

"It can be." Allan grunted as he twisted the lock pick about, "If you let it be tha' way."

Noise from the staircase caused the two men to freeze. The men were waking and they weren't standing on ceremony from the Sheriff or Guy to go downstairs and help themselves to the spoils of the kitchen. Their raucous laughter echoed briefly; there was their pity for the dead landlord and his serving girl. What was better than a night at a comfortable inn? A night spent without pay.

"Allan; get out of here." Robin whispered quickly.

"Ain't leaving without ya, that's the plan. Almost got it." Allan redoubled his efforts. He was so close, he could almost feel the lock giving way.

"Hey!" One of the sailors shouted, "One of 'ems outta the chain!"

"Allan, run!" Robin shouted.

"Get 'im!" One of the men directed.

"I said I wasn't leaving without ya!" Allan roared in frustration.

Robin sprang up, shoving him down just as one of the men came up from behind to take a swing at him. He slammed himself against the would-be attackers. His tugging on the chain alerted Much and Little John of their current situation. They awoke with a start.

"Allan?" Much blinked in surprise. "You got out!"

Allan punched one of the sailors. "Yeah, now jus' gotta get the rest of you out too."

"Not likely." Robin warned, "Allan, get out of here."

"I said not without--"

"I'm not asking you, Allan; that was an order!" Robin roared as he was tackled to the floor by one of the men. "Get back to Nottingham; warn the people the Sheriff is coming...tell them to be ready. Tell them to fight."

Aghast, Allan began to back his way towards the inn doors. He wasn't the leader, he couldn't rally anybody to do anything. He was no good without Robin telling him what to do.

"He's gonna get away!" One of the men shouted, rushing for him.

"Allan! Go, now!" Little John cried as he tried fighting off two of the men.

Little John's cry seemed to break through Allan's momentary fear. He burst out the doors and into the hazy light of the dawn. The road was clear before him. He could find his way home. He could still hear the fighting ensuing inside the inn and he winced; how could he leave his friends behind? Maybe he truly was a coward. For an instant he decided to double back and take his chances with the sailors. Surely they wouldn't be too much to handle?

That was when three of them came running out the doors. Allan stiffened with more surprise than fear. The men pointed at him and began to pursue him eagerly. Allan ran down the road; away from the inn; away from the harbor town; away towards Nottingham, towards home.

* * *

**Now we are finally getting somewhere. Eventually the two stories will merge into one, but you've got to be able to see where things are headed first and trust me, there are many adventures to be had for all characters before they ever meet up. **

**As always, please review and I hope everyone had a great holiday! :)  
**


	9. Not to be Touched

**Updates are not happening as quickly as I would like, but I suppose that is to be expected with the state of things right now. You see, I'm moving to Boston in about four days (Going to college) and everything is a bit chaotic. But as usual, that does not mean I neglect in writing! :) Do enjoy!

* * *

**

IX

Not to be Touched

The sun had barely alighted into the sky when, from across the market square, came walking three figures, each carrying a small bundle. For all decent people this was still a time to be asleep in bed, but in the center of the square there was a buzzing of activity.

The wooden stage had been taken down and already it was being carted away by one of the young men. The stalls were being dismantled and the banners and ribbons were bundled up and stowed. Everywhere members of the band were humming with good humor and excitement. Moving days were almost as memorable as arriving days.

"Josh! Don't let that beam fall! Watch were you put those wheels you two!" Psyche's voice seemed to echo as she strode about the scene directing the activity with a stern look and a sharp reprimand. She looked strict in her black buttoned dress and gloves, like a specter of night still walking among the dawn.

The three figures made their way through the chaos of the bustling players. Gabrielle shielded her eyes as she looked up from the sack of cloth she was tying off. "It's them!" She shouted.

Josh dropped the beam of wood he had been carrying, much to his helper's dismay. Psyche swooped down on him like a raven, "Josh, what did I just say?!"

"Sorry, Psyche." Josh grumbled as he went to collect the beam from the ground. As he walked on past her he called out over his shoulder, "Your friends are here."

"My friends?" Psyche repeated, bemused. What friends did she have in this world besides the Players?

She turned about and found herself staring directly into the ecstatic eyes of Marian. Psyche stood rooted to the spot in her surprise. She had not expected them to arrive. She had expected them to forget the whole matter. Perhaps the noblewoman was merely toying with her; amusing herself with fooling her into trusting her. She blinked and tilted her head to one side. "So," She barked, "you decided to come after all."

"You said to arrive early." Marian exhaled, "And we have!"

"Set your belongings down and get to work cleaning up. We leave in two hours time." Psyche replied and quickly turned away and moved on.

"A delightful ray of sunshine, that one." Will snorted.

"She's not so bad once you get used to her." Gabrielle remarked as she approached, "I'll take your belongings if you like."

The gesture was accepted gladly and soon Gabrielle found herself the recipient of three bundles of clothing. She placed them in one of the carts with several other trunks and baggages. "We store the belongings of people who don't have a wagon of their own here. Everyone shares from time to time, so I hope you don't mind."

"Where we come from we are used to things being communal." Djaq replied. "Thank you for your help."

"You did save my life, so I expect I owe you." Gabrielle shrugged. "Besides," she remarked as she skittered back to her former chore of folding the unused ribbons and clothes, "you'll like it here. Everyone who joins does. What do you three do?"

"Nothing you can find useful I'm sure. We aren't performers." Marian laughed, setting herself up beside Gabrielle to help her tie off the sacks.

"Well, we must find some use for you. Everyone pulls their own weight here." Gabrielle wagged her finger, "No exceptions." She added with a grin.

Will interjected his thoughts first, "I am a carpenter."

"You see?" Gabrielle exclaimed, "That is a fine occupation, we have no carpenters among us. You will get on well, indeed. And you?" She asked, pointing to Djaq.

"I have training as a physician." Djaq mused.

"Like a healer?" Gabrielle inquired. "You can help Mariel, she's a healer as well. What of you, noblewoman?" She glanced over at Marian, "What can you do, besides scare off soldiers?"

"I don't know." Marian replied, "I'm not sure I can be of much use, but I will do what ever is asked when my help is needed."

"That is not good enough. Everyone can do something." Gabrielle said. She winked and sat up straight, placed a hand upon Marian's head and said in an imitation of Psyche's stage voice, "I sense you can do a great many things which you are unwilling to mention."

Marian smiled a little, she looked away, finishing up with the bundle she was knotting up; when she noticed the small dagger in Gabrielle's belt sash. "Is that yours?" she asked.

"Hm?" Gabrielle tried to guess at where Marian was looking, "Ah, this?" She held up the small knife. "Yes it is. All the Players have one in case we get separated and need protection."

"May I see it?" Marian asked holding out her hand.

"Of course." Gabrielle handed it to her.

Marian's hand folded over the hilt of the dagger. The blade was light and perfectly balanced. She stood apart from Gabrielle and turned to face across from her. "See that beam?" She pointed to the wooden beam of the wagon next to Gabrielle. The girl nodded and her gaze swept from Marian back to the beam in anticipation.

"Watch it closely." Marian said softly as she drew back her hand and let the dagger fly. It landed, quivering, in the beam, the tip buried in the wood.

Gabrielle paused for a moment before she attempted to pull her knife out of the wood's clutches. The knife was stuck fast and would not be removed. Marian strode over and gave the knife a quick yank and out it came. She handed it back to Gabrielle who stared up at her in awe, "You are a performer. I will speak to Mariel. You are a knife-thrower. We don't have any female knife throwers."

"I don't recall asking you to chop up the wagons for firewood." Psyche snapped. She folded her arms across her chest, glaring at Marian and Gabrielle.

"She was just showing me her skill as a performer. She's good, Psyche." Gabrielle piped up, clutching Marian's hand, but giving her a conspiratorial wink.

"Did I ask you, Gabrielle?" Psyche swung her gaze towards the young girl, "Finish packing away those clothes and stop playing with knives; honestly, you aren't a child anymore." She turned her back on the group, the hem of her dress kicking up a small cloud of sand as she walked off.

Gabrielle snorted as she turned to face Marian, Will, and Djaq. She crossed her arms and glared at them. "Finish up that packing you three or I'll get it into my head to smack your skulls together, for all the good that is there inside them!" She cackled in her severe imitation of Psyche.

Marian cupped a hand over her mouth as she tried to restrain from laughing at the girl. From a pace away from them came a booming, and less than amused retort, "I don't know about smashing skulls together, Gabrielle, but I thank you for the suggestion. Get to work!"

"Like I said," Will rolled his eyes, "charming ray of sunshine, that one."

"Welcome to the band." Gabrielle giggled.

***

Psyche felt the air constrict in her lungs. She would be glad to get out of the desert, nevermind that she was a child of the sand she had always hated it. It was course and rough and most of all, accursedly hot. Once she had hitched her wagon up to the horses and was on the road again she would feel better. She could practically live off of the dreams of the northern lands were things were cooler and wetter. That is if that was what her dreams consisted of.

Her right hand bunched into a fist as she recalled her dreams. He had tried to touch her again, and he had partially succeeded. Her hand still burned inside her glove, it was as if he had made contact with the skin concealed by the velvet. How long until he sought to pull her hood down to see her face? How long until he even became bold enough to remove her gloves? She shuddered, she would be more careful now. He would never get so near to her again.

"We are nearly ready to leave." The cracked voice of old Mariel left no more room for daydreams.

"Good. Have the wagons rigged to the horse yokes and we can depart in an hour." Psyche said sternly.

"Such efficiency." Mariel chuckled, tapping her stick upon the sandy ground thoughtfully, "I have never seen the players shift themselves so quickly. One would think the very devil was riding hard on them."

The corners of Psyche's lips twitched as if she would smile, but her almond eyes remained dark as ever. "Then my compliments to this devil. A crafty taskmaster."

"Or a tired woman." Mariel mused.

"One and the same, wouldn't you say?" Psyche scoffed, glancing at Mariel with slight amusement. She sighed when she noticed that her mentor did not share her same sense of humor, "I do what I do to get things done. Am I at fault for that?"

"No one said anything about fault." Mariel replied glancingly. "Psyche, perhaps you should get some rest while you can. I'm sure we can manage without you now."

"Rest is the last thing I desire." Psyche crossed her arms, "Besides, with those three newcomers here someone has to keep an eye on things, lest they stray."

"Ah, I am glad you mentioned them." Mariel cleared her throat, "I happened to notice Gabrielle place their belongings in the communal wagon, so I took the liberty of shifting the noblewoman's belongings into your wagon."

Psyche laughed, "I'm sure you did, Mariel."

"And Gabrielle will be sharing her wagon with the healer and her lover will be with Joshua, he already volunteered his wagon to me in passing." Mariel continued without pause.

"You're...you're not serious are you?" Psyche's merriment died instantly. She looked down at the old woman, horrified. Mariel met Psyche's gaze and not once did her old eyes flicker to mirth. Psyche's mouth began to move as if to protest this, but no sound emerged.

"Do not look at me like a fish wriggling on the hook, Psyche. Shut your mouth." Mariel clicked as she raised a hand as if to gently close Psyche's unhinged jaw.

"You can't mean this, Mariel, you can't do this!" Psyche whined. She was rewarded with a slight rap to her shins from Mariel's formidable walking stick. She winced and hopped backwards a bit to avoid another striking blow.

"Childishness is unacceptable, Psyche. The noblewoman was in _your _dreams."

"That does not make her my responsibility!" Psyche countered angrily.

"You are a seer, girl." Mariel snapped, her rough and sandy voice cutting across Psyche's mewling whine. "It is time you started to understand what that means. You will ride with the noblewoman and you will come to know her. It is a gift, Psyche, your mother possessed it as did hers. Stop ignoring it."

"I will not hear of this." Psyche hissed, shutting her eyes briefly as if to deny the existence of the present conversation. "Magic and seers and dreams. It's nonsense. I will not accept it, not from you or anyone." She sighed. The wind whipped up about them, kicking up the sand and tousling Psyche's hair behind her. The grit irritated her eyes and she wiped at them with the back of her gloved hand.

"Then why do you live in fear of it?" Mariel stood unflinching as the sand blew around her.

Psyche felt the very air catch in her throat. She would hear no more of this. "I will ride with the woman, Mariel, if it pleases you, but do not expect me to come to know her." She pulled her hood up over her head and folded her hands through her long sleeves. "Give the word that we are ready to leave. I want to be gone from this accursed desert before this time tomorrow!"

***

The temporary camp for the night felt surprisingly warm for the cold, howling of the desert winds. Safe in the wagon circle it was almost impossible to feel the isolation of the vast dunes of sands surrounding the entire band. The fire at the heart of the camp had been warm and the company had been enjoyable. Marian found herself back at the old outlaw camp in Sherwood; with all the memories of camaraderie and ease.

Gabrielle was beginning to grow on Marian, she liked the young girl's recklessness and her air of friendly bravado. She reminded her of herself when she was her age. It had been enjoyable watching her sing for the others around the fire. Marian had never heard such a rough and brash voice, never from the mouth of such a young girl. She had found herself laughing and clapping in time with the rhythm of the reeling music.

Only one stood apart from the merriment. Psyche watched from the back of the circle; leaning against one of the wagons, arms crossed and a piercing stare radiating from her dark eyes. Marian had tried to avoid catching her eyes, but she found it unavoidable. If she didn't know better she would have though Psyche was staring especially at her. What she planned on deciphering she could only guess at, but she always moved on if she stared back at her long enough. The way she moved in shadow sent chills down Marian's spine. There was something about the woman which brought about dark thoughts; thoughts she would rather forget entirely.

When she had learned she was to be riding Psyche, Marian had had to control her sudden fear of the woman and from the one glare Psyche shot at her, Marian surmised that the idea had not come from the fortune-teller. Yet the wagon was comfortable enough; even warm. There was space aplenty for her to sleep and move about without disturbing Psyche, and she had no desire to spark the ire of the woman. In fact, Marian planned on ignoring her entirely. If she did not bother her, then there was no reason to believe the they wouldn't get along amiably enough.

Marian had not counted on the disturbances of sleep. In the dead of night she awoke abruptly to the sound of a thin keening noise. She jostled herself from her sleep and sat up to see Psyche tossing her head from side to side, sweat upon her brow and face creased in something akin to pain. Without thinking, Marian did the only thing she felt to be reasonable. She shook the woman awake. "Psyche?" She whispered, "Psyche, wake up."

The woman came awake with a start and a gasp of air. She sucked in breath for a moment and as soon as her eyes locked with Marian's and she noticed for the first time, her hands upon her shoulders she wrenched herself out of her grasp. Her mind swam briefly with contorted images, still in the aftermath of a befuddled awakening. She tried to still them. Marian leaned over, "Are you all right?" She asked.

Her voice felt louder in her ears. Psyche winced, feeling helpless and unable to speak. Terrible, terrible grief welled in her. She looked away from Marian and closed her eyes. Sand, blood, swords, guilt, loss, pain....she would be sick with all these images. She let out a thin groan.

"It was a nightmare." Marian soothed, rubbing Psyche's back comfortingly.

"Don't touch me..." Psyche managed to whisper, her throat constricting as she fought down the urge to be ill.

Marian backed away placatingly, shocked and dumbfounded as to how to help her. She had never seen such a reaction to a nightmare before. It looked as if the woman was in very real, physical pain. Psyche remained panting and shuddering for another moment until at last the effects of her dream began to fade. Still breathing heavily she turned to look up at the worried face of Marian. "Don't ever...touch me." She panted.

"I'm sorry." Marian stammered, "You were having a nightmare, would you have rather I let you writhe about?"

"If you are to stay with me you will heed my words." Psyche said, sitting up slowly as she swung her legs over the edge of her cot, hunching over her knees like an old beggar woman.

"Well, I find it to be ridiculous. I was only trying to help you." Marian said in a quipped tone.

"Then help me by handing me that flask beside you." Psyche held out her hand in expectation of receiving the mentioned object. Marian did so and Psyche took a long draught out of it. She gasped and recorked the flask, letting it hang in her hands as she sat, slumped over.

"Why?" Marian suddenly asked in the silence. "Why do you dislike being touched."

"Why should I share my reasons with you?" Psyche snapped, running a hand through her hair, dampened by sweat.

"Considering you woke me from my sleep with your screaming, I'd say you owe me an explanation for snapping at me for helping you." Marian retorted, returning to her own cot and sitting down one the edge of it, facing opposite of the disheveled woman.

Psyche glared at her as she looked up, but her gaze softened as she saw Marian's hard eyes. "It's trivial." She remarked flippantly.

"Go on."

"If you don't touch someone you can't form an attachment if you can't form an attachment then you can never love and if you never love you will never be hurt. It's that simple. You avoid fire when it burns? Or a knife when it cuts? I avoid the hand and skin." She raised her gloved hands to prove her point.

"You've...you've never been touched?" Marian spoke softly, suddenly more intrigued than annoyed.

Psyche shook her head, "If I ever was I was too young to recall. I clothed myself this way since I was a child. Do not look at me so. Why should you pity me? I do not miss something I have never known. Do not think me so weak as that."

"But...your mother?"

"Died upon bringing me into the world." Psyche said bluntly. "My father, whoever he was, followed her shortly afterwards. Are you quite satisfied?"

"I..." In truth Marian was at a loss for words. She had known she would possibly be stumbling upon some unusual truth, but she had not meant to pry into the past of the woman. She was at odds with how to act now; where she should put her eyes. If she stared, she pitied, yet if she avoided Psyche's gaze she was unnerved.

"Now," Psyche's voice provided soothing undertone for the encompassing awkward shadow surrounding the two women. "I have told you of myself. Tell me of you. How did you come to be in Acre? Tell me of your two friends who travel with you?"

"I thought you were a diviner of the future. Don't you already know?" Marian sighed coyly.

"I only know what is told to me." Psyche snorted, "You owe me an explanation."

"It is a long story." Marian warned.

"The night itself is long and I feel we are both far from sleep." Psyche shrugged, leaning back against the wall of the wagon with a light sigh, crossing her arms across her chest comfortably.

"Well then I will tell you..."

* * *

**So that little mystery about Psyche is finally revealed. I hope that was a satisfying answer to that long asked question. :) As always I ask you to please review! I love hearing your thoughts and feedback! **


	10. A Most Unassuming Friend

**See? I didn't entirely forget about this story. For a while I nearly gave up on it, but I realized that if for my own sanity alone, I had to finish it. XD That and the impending return of S3 has spurred me into action once again! **

**Anyway, do enjoy!

* * *

  
**

X

A Most Unassuming Friend

Allan had been running for over an hour. His legs felt like leaden bolts and he could feel every bone within them creak and shake as he placed his weight onto them. He ran lightly over the rocky fields. He avoided the small hills and logs, he had not the strength to trudge over them. He panted like a dog, tongue almost lolling from his mouth; which was dry as a bone.

Still; however, he could hear the pounding of the sailors turned mercenaries. They must have the will of a demon to have followed him without rest for this long. He thought he should have lost them ages ago, yet onward he continued to run. So exhausted was he he was no longer certain of what direction he was headed, all that mattered was his escape. He had to get to Nottingham, he had to survive. So strong was this conviction it left no room for fear of death. He would not die. Allan firmly believed this to be an impossibility and therefore it lent an urgency to his tired limbs.

In a moment of conceited weakness, Allan turned his head about ever so cautiously to catch a glimpse of his pursuers. The action cost him his tedious footing and he fell, stumbling over his own legs, which had become about as useful as kindle for the fire. He lay sprawled out on the forest ground. He began to crawl his way back onto his feet, but his every muscle screamed in protest to this action.

Allan turned his head, he could see the men gaining ground on him. Uttering a curse he kicked out and half crawled, half wriggled through the forest undergrowth. He felt someone latch onto his arm and heave him upright, Allan swung his arm up and caught the man full force in the jaw. He was dropped back down onto his knees. He was outnumbered and completely defenseless. After swinging two more successive punches his arms grew tired and he could hardly lift them, let alone hit with them. They were tugged behind his back by one of the mercenaries and by the time Allan had no more fight left in him.

Suddenly, Allan heard a cry from somewhere in the trees; then the rustling of leaves which announced the presence of unknown help. A man burst forth from the adjacent thicket, swinging a rather heavy leather bound book. He knocked the first man over the head with it, swiftly bringing him down. The other two mercenaries exchanged stunned looks with one another, but they were quickly put out of their confusion by a few well timed raps upon the head with same book.

Allan covered his head with his hand as the strange knelt down beside him. He blinked open his eyes in surprise as he found that the man was offering to help him up, not knock him out. Allan took the offered hand in thankful silence, save for the groan as he placed his full weight back upon his tired legs. "Thanks very much." Allan sighed, shaking the man's hand whilst he still held it, "Thought I was a goner there."

"You don't have much faith then do you?" The stranger asked crossing his arms over the weaponized book.

"Don't see how that 'as anything t' do with it." Allan shrugged, "What the hell did ya brain them anyway?"

The stranger tilted the book for closer inspection and upon seeing it Allan burst into raucous laughter, "That's using the ol' good book the charitable way!" His laughter gave way to a fit of coughing and the stranger placed a hand upon his back as if to still him. Allan shrugged him off, "Nah, don't worry there. Just tired is all. What's your name anyway?"

"Tuck." The stranger said simply.

"Just that? Ain't got no home or something?"

"If you feel obligated you could always call me Friar Tuck."

"A man o' the cloth? That's just who I need on my side." Allan groaned sarcastically, "Tell me something, what's a man like you doing out here in the middle o' the night...an' knocking about mercenaries at that. Ain't you folk supposed to preach peace and all that rubbish?"

"If you are all for asking questions I might ask you why you were being chased by three mercenaries in the middle of the night." Tuck remarked casually, "You might be a thief or a murderer for all I very well know."

"You'd only be right on one count there, Tuck."

"Which is it?" Tuck asked, hefting about his Bible from one arm to the other.

"Guess you'll just have to find out on yer own now won't you?" Allan grinned, although it went unseen in the relatively pitch black forest.

One of the mercenaries gave a thin groan from beneath them as if trying to rise back to his feet. Tuck brought his Bible crashing back down onto the man's head without another thought. "Right, I've enjoyed standing 'round talkn' t' ya, Tuck, but I've got a job still t' do an' I'm sure you've got...souls t' save, an such. Thanks for saving my life, I ain't likely t' forget it." Allan cleared his throat as he began backing away further into the forest.

"What is your job?" Tuck called out.

"You know for a friar you ask a lot o' questions." Allan whined in annoyance.

"And for a thief you make a poor fighter." Tuck retorted.

"How did you guess?" Allan could not resist a cheeky grin at Tuck's assumption of his vocation.

"It wasn't hard." Tuck snorted, "Where are you going?"

"Nottingham."

"Seems that is a far distance away."

"Aye, but it's where I need to go." Allan nodded, "I promised a friend."

"So, not just a thief, but an honorable thief." Tuck chuckled.

"An' you would be too if ya were led by Robin Hood." The hooting of an owl brought silence reigning for only a minute. Allan nudge his head in the direction of the path, signaling for Tuck to follow if he dared to. The stranger turned ally seemed to oblige him and the two began to turn away from the danger of the unconscious mercenaries.

"I have heard of this man, it seems news travels almost as fast and as far as I do." Tuck said quietly as he fell into step alongside Allan.

Allan chuckled quietly, while still regaining his balance, his gait was awkward and his previous collapse had done nothing to rest already weary limbs. Tuck cut into Allan's sudden laughter, "Where is Robin Hood?"

Allan frowned, "Captured." He said bluntly.

"Were you running from his captors?" Tuck asked gravely.

"I'd 'ave rather died!" Allan snapped he sighed upon seeing the surprised look upon his companion's face, "I managed to free myself, but before I could get t' him those mercenaries," he gestured behind him, "broke in on us. Robin told me to make a run for it an' I did. I'm t' go back to Nottingham an' warn the people to take arms up against the Sheriff."

"Forgive me for doubting your sense of courage...."

"Allan." He stated his name with an odd twinge of laughter as he realized that he had not introduced himself properly yet, "Allan A'Dale."

"Allan." Tuck assured, "It sounds you are in need of an army."

"Aye, but I'll take whatever help comes my way."

"Then accept mine." Tuck offered.

"Yours?" Allan seemed flabbergasted by the offer, "Look, not being funny, but...you're a friar, what do you know about fighting...aside from that little trick ya did with your book, but it ain't always gonna be that easy."

"You should not judge a stranger's presence merely by how he seems." Tuck remarked.

"Are ye preachin' t' me? I warn ya, I don't fall for that mess of gobbledegook." Allan crossed his arms.

"Then merely accept my help. I could prove useful."

"Don't ya got a church t' take care of?" Allan snorted.

"I'm a traveller. I go where I am needed...and you seem to need all the help you can get." Tuck said in much the way one would address a stubborn child.

"Fine then." Allan relented, giving Tuck his hand to shake, which he did so gladly and firmly, "You're now a member of Robin Hood's gang. How's it feel t' be an outlaw, Friar?"

"It should prove interesting." Tuck mused.

"Oh, that it will, mate, ye can take my word for it."

***

Robin was laughing, and it was unnerving the remaining sailors who were no paying close attention to their prisoners. Robin, with a black eye beginning to form and a bleeding split lip and numerous bruises received from the sailors, was laughing like a man without a care in the world. The sound was harsh and grating on the ears, it was nearing the insane pitch of a man gone mad with the idea of freedom leaving suddenly.

One of the sailors let out a groan of annoyance and lashed out at Robin, beating him across the face with his fist. "Shut it! I'm warning ya!"

Robin silence himself, but continued to chuckle only to himself, his body shaking with the nervous energy. Only Much managed to nudge himself against his leader to find out what the matter was. "What's so funny?" he asked lightly, hoping that Robin would talk to him.

"You don't get it do you?" Robin gasped in between bouts of hysterical snickering.

Much bit his lip, Robin could not have gone mad. There was certainly no sign of madness in his leader's eyes. They were of the same stoic nature, if no longer without their former boyish cheerfulness, then with a newfound sense of maturity. "Don't get what?" Much prompted, hoping against hope that a reasonable answer would emerge from Robin's lips.

"Allan is free. We're one step ahead of the Sheriff again." Robin quickly explained, leaning his head back against the wooden wall with all the air of a well rested man.

"You actually trust Allan to get to Nottingham?"

"I have no choice." Robin's laughter seemed to die, along with the eerie light of a ghostly smile.

"What if he abandons us?" Much warned.

"While I am a prisoner and he is free, I have no choice but to place my faith in him, Much. I can not think of him as a traitor anymore." Robin heaved a sigh, folding his chained hands over his knees, letting a few of the links swing at his feet, "I'll go mad, Much, if I'm helpless."

"We have no plan for another escape?" Much was not used to his leader's hopeless attitude. If he did not have a plan then what hope did any of them have?

Robin let out a breath of laughter. He let his head loll to one side, coming eye to eye with his best friend, "You think I planned Allan's escape? No, he came up with that himself and he got lucky he could. I have no more plans, Much, I find myself unable to think at all."

"Master what about--"

"Stop calling me that." Robin snapped, his mood souring. "I'm no one's master now."

"You are mine." Much seemed hurt that Robin should say otherwise, "You are our leader."

"What? Chained and bound as I am? I've lead you on a fine road haven't I?"

"I'd follow you into hell, _Master_, and you know it."

Robin became very quiet, tilting his head away from Much. He sighed, not the one borne from frustration, or from shame, but from daydreaming. Much huffed, he had not been listening had he? "Fine, fine, if you want to give up, give up. I plan on thinking of way to get us out of here."

"Do that Much, tell me how far you get in thinking."

Much turned away from Robin, red in the face. "I can think of a way to escape same as anyone, right?" He turned to ask of Little John who merely shrugged in response. "Right..." sighed Much, answering his own questions. He leaned his head back against the wooden beam, his chains clinking and shifting about him. His head was already beginning to hurt and he had barely begun to formulate an idea. So it was harder than he thought, he turned to look at Robin, who was plucking at the chains around his wrist. He would receive no help from him. With Allan gone and Will and Djaq still back in the Holy Land, it would seem it would be up to him for a while to hold up the gang. He just wasn't certain if he was able to do it.

***

Guy was dreaming, of that he was certain. At first it was of the familiar blackness he so often walked in in his sleep. It was peaceful and silent here and for an instant he caught sight of the hooded woman who always accompanied him. He shuddered as he watched her from a distance. Was she supposed to be an angelic figure or a creature from hell? Did angels walk hooded, or did demons?

She turned to look at him and it was if he could feel the pain radiating out of her. He was confused at this and stumbled backwards. The woman raised her hand as if to still his movements, but suddenly she seemed to be pulled away. She struggled suddenly and with a cry she was gone, and with her a nightmare was revealed where she had so often blocked it.

Guy was back at Locksley and at first it was if he had never left. He seemed to have awoken from sleep. He started, sitting up in his bed, holding his head in his hands as if to make sense of what had happened, but he found his mind clouded as if all that had happened to him had been the true dream.

A voice beside him called him out of his confusion. "A nightmare?" Marian inquired as she sat up, placing an arm about him gently.

Immediately Guy gave a gasp of horror, wrenching himself out of Marian's arms. "What is it?" she asked, her eyes shimmered with concern.

He stared at her in absolute horror for a moment. "N-n-no." He croaked out, "You're dead." he repeated, "You're gone..you're..." Marian was inching closer to him, compassion in her gaze. She pressed a finger to his lips, hushing him.

"A nightmare. That was all. I am alive and well." She laughed, lowering her hand and kissing him lightly, drawing another gasp from Guy. "Can you not feel me?" She replied, lowering her head so that she was nestled against him. She took his hand and guided it to her breast, "See? There is my heartbeat. What more proof do you require, my love?"

She was soft against him, so soft. He hesitantly wrapped his arms about her, hearing her sigh. "Marian..." he whispered as she curled against him all the more.

He buried his head against the tangled auburn of her curls, believing he could even smell the familiar scent of her. He kissed her forehead once, twice. "Marian," he whispered her name again, feeling a sense of relief he had never felt before. "I thought I had killed you." he confessed, "That I had lost you." He would speak no more of it, he could not. He continued to kiss and caress her, each touch burning into his heart.

"Nonsense." Marian scoffed, "You could never lose me. I love you."

Guy smiled, the words like a soothing balm. "I love you." He responded, his voice threatening to break with emotion. He thought he would never be able to truly tell her this. His mind felt jarred, what was real? What was not? "I love you, Marian." he repeated, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from him by admitting this.

"Go back to sleep, Guy." Marian sighed, bringing him back down onto the bed beside her.

She lay with her head against his chest and one arm curled about him. She felt warm. Guy brought her close to him. It had only been a nightmare then, he sighed, toying with a lock of Marian's hair. The Holy Land, the journey back home, Marian's death; of course, all if it had been far too horrific to have possibly been real. She did love him, then; she had married him. He closed his eyes, for once unafraid of his dreams and of the morning after.

He awoke slowly, blinking back the harsh light of the gray morning. He did not start from the bed, merely rolled over, expecting to feel Marian beside him. He frowned, clearing his vision a bit he took stock of his surroundings. Marian was not next to him. He sat up, "Marian?" But the name died on his lips as he realized he was not back at Locksley, but still in the tavern.

His mind reeled in protest. Another nightmare, this wasn't real. He closed his eyes hoping to somehow jar himself awake, but nothing changed. He couldn't hear Marian's voice, he couldn't see her, or feel her lying curled up against him. She was gone. It had only been a dream.

Quietly Guy lowered his head, and covering his face with his arms, he began to weep.

* * *

**There are so many twists and turns coming up...and that's even before the two parallel stories cross! Really excited about it, I just hope you all haven't completely lost faith in my ability to update! Please do review and let me know some of you are still interested. **


	11. Persistence

**Apologies for the short length of this chapter, it's more of an intro really. Intro to what, exactly? Ye had best be reading t' find out. :) Enjoy!

* * *

**

XI

Persistence

Psyche listened to Marian's story with almost half hearted interest. She felt tired and the call to sleep was pulling on her and each time her eyelids dropped even a little she felt the thin warning that she was needed elsewhere. She had never stayed up all night before, and the more tired she grew the more she grew aware that she was not there to still the man's own nightmares.

Yet somehow she was able to listen and understand Marian's story as she told her of her home in Nottingham and her struggles there with her husband, a man called Robin Hood. The names meant nothing to her though. That was until Marian began to tentatively explain how she had become separated from her husband. She had brought the moment up cautiously, anger in her eyes and it was as if she was attempting to force hatred into her voice, but failed.

Psyche stretched out her legs as she chided her on her hesitations, "What was the man's name, then? The one who tried to kill you?"

"Sir Guy of Gisborne." Came the quiet reply.

Psyche felt the overwhelming dizzying sensation, very much the same way she had felt when Marian had first told her her name. She tried to conceal the start within her. "Odd," she croaked out at first, but rapidly cleared her throat, "You don't hate him."

"What?" Marian snapped, "Of course I..."

"Oh silence," Psyche chuckled harshly, resting her head against the headboard of her bed, feeling the pounding within her skull intensify. "You tried, certainly, but you don't. You care for him. Don't lie, not with me."

Marian hung her head, "Tell this to no one?"

"I do not make it a point to spread gossip. What is it?"

"I feel as if I am the one at fault." She whispered, "I...I was scared, and angry. I told him hateful things, things I should never have said. If I could take it back, I..."

Psyche was growing increasingly paler by the second and it took only a moment for Marian to notice her companion's weakened state. "Psyche?" The woman tried to perk up upon being called, but she only succeeded in nearly slipping off the edge of the bed. "Psyche?!"

"Why are you shouting again?" Psyche groaned as she eased herself back onto the bed, quickly avoiding Marian's arms as she sought to help her. "I'm surprised the entire camp hasn't woken yet."

"You are ill."

"No." Psyche said bluntly, "Your words merely reminded me of something..."

"Reminded you? Do you know? Can you tell me what you see? Is it Robin? Guy?" The questions came in a hurried rush.

"For the last time!" Psyche hissed, "I can not divine the future. I am merely a tired woman who-" she rubbed the side of her head in small circles to still the stinging pain behind her eyes, "-is incapable of sleeping. Believe me, if I could foresee the future I would have taken care to have avoided you."

"I think you are lying to me."

"You do not think I wish to possess such an ability?" Psyche suddenly snarled at her, she winced in pain, "If you knew of what I saw, of what I do not understand! I wish I did! I wish I knew how to--"

The silence was nearly deafening to Marian. Psyche's eyes made swift darting movements and the darkness behind them caused Marian to shudder. "What is it that troubles you so much?" She read the startled expression on the proud woman's face, "You can confide in me. I won't tell a soul if you won't tell anyone my fears."

Psyche looked down. "Nightmares." She whispered, each pounding of her heart reverberating back to her aching skull. "Nightmares that will not leave."

"What are they?" Marian settled herself back down, starting attentively up at the haggard woman.

Hesitantly and with a tripping tongue, Psyche explained the strange visitations and images she saw each night. Marian watched with an unflinching eye. As she finished her explanation, Psyche was astounded at the fact that the deathly ache in her skull and suddenly ceased. She would think no more on it; aside that it was as if she was meant to tell her her visions.

"Maybe it's all one and the same." Marian announced after musing over the information. "Maybe you were supposed to find me. Maybe I will help you find this man you dream about."

"Do not mock me." Psyche snorted. "He's a dream. That is all."

"But you sounded as if you would have wanted him to be real."

"No!" Psyche cursed herself for allowing a thin wail to creep into her voice. "That would be cruel to wish for."

"Why?"

"A man so lost in misery? Broken? Hurt? While I...I'm here and I _can't_..."

"Be there with him?" It was astonishing how quickly Marian surmised Psyche's answer. Marian nodded, "I know. I know what it's like to love someone and not be there with them."

"_I'm not in l--_"

Marian laughed, "Don't bother denying it. You will only be lying to yourself."

Psyche's mouth snapped shut, her eyes suddenly narrowing again in cold anger. "We only have a few hours before dawn. I would suggest getting as much sleep as you can if you expect to be functional in the morning. Laziness will not be tolerated."

With that the Seer turned over away from Marian, pulled the blankets up and over herself and promptly willed herself to sleep.

***

"So, how is your new friend?" Djaq asked of Marian as the two women rode alongside of each other atop one of the carts. "Had anymore premonitions has she?"

"That's not funny, Djaq." Marian smiled as she looked down towards where Psyche was following the carts steadily, directing the flow. Sand swirled about her black cloak and as she towered over a few of the other Players she looked more like a demon of the desert. "She's different, that is all."

"Aye, and she'll be dead as well if she continues wearing that ridiculous outfit in this sun. Have you told her yet that she will drain herself of all her energy that way? The sun will sap it right out of her." Djaq grunted; for weeks now she had been trying to convince Psyche to shed the layers of her costume to no avail.

"There will be no telling her, Djaq."

"Why not?"

"She's afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Djaq laughed mockingly.

Marian gave her friend a sly little smile, "It's not my secret to tell."

"That woman's not helped you one bit, I'll tell you one thing. I'll be glad to get well clear from these people." Djaq muttered sullenly.

Marian laughed at her friend's exasperation. She gave a light sigh and leaned back on her hands, staring up at the blue sky. The cart rumbled onward and she could feel the turn of the wheels even from the roof of the cart. The desert seemed to stretch onwards forever, even though they had been traversing its length for weeks now she was beginning to wonder if they would ever see green again. She knew Djaq and Will were anxious to get back to England, and so was she, but life with the Players was so open and free. She knew she would of course have to leave them one day, but for now it was enough to have the adventure.

When the sun began to set it was time to circle the carts together. The desert was frigid without the sun and a warm fire at the center of the circle served to keep the company relatively warm and secure for the night. Gabrielle sang and danced as a few of the musicians tested out their instruments. Joshua was pulled into the circle by Gabrielle and the two of them danced for a time, Joshua; however, made sport of the whole affair, purposefully dancing his way around the fire clumsily making Gabrielle laugh and falter in her steps until the two were sprawled on their backs in the sand laughing. Marian found herself laughing with the others, but after looking around for a moment she noticed that Psyche was nowhere to be seen.

Marian picked herself up and went off to investigate. "And where are you off to, pray tell?" Mariel's aged and cracked voice caught Marian completely off guard.

"I was...I was trying to find Psyche." The truth was hardly shameful and she felt she could not lie to the old woman.

"She does not wish to be found. If she did she would be here with the others." Mariel tapped her walking stick upon the sandy ground idly as she approached Marian under cover of the shadows of the carts.

"Why isn't she here then?" Marian asked.

"She hates the desert. Can't understand why anyone else would like it." Mariel shrugged with a knowing glimmer in her eyes.

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions." Mariel chuckled, "No save your forthcoming apologies, one need never apologize for seeking knowledge." Marian quickly shut her mouth.

"You are used to getting your way, aren't you, noblewoman?" Mariel spoke softly as she treaded around Marian, the sound of her stick drumming against the sand disrupted Marian's footing. "Asking questions, with that pretty little smile of yours...secrets of whole kingdoms have probably been told to you." The crone smiled wickedly.

"I...I don't."

"Don't apologize." Mariel snapped, "It's a woman's way in this world to use her charm when she can; to trick, to manipulate until she has what she wants. If you use it to help others you've used your talents well."

"I have." Marian announced stubbornly.

"Have you?" Mariel did not seem impressed. "Then why," Mariel prodded Marian with her staff, "are you here?"

The old woman's eyes were like those of an old crow. Marian did not like the death she saw reflected in them. Mariel, still chuckling to herself, began to drift back to the bonfire at the center of the camp. "Ask Psyche about the blood on her hands."

"What...?" A sick feeling emerged in the pit of Marian's stomach at the statement. "What importance is there in a question like that?"

"Ask her." Mariel said again, "You might see something she has long overlooked." The woman hobbled away from Marian, leaving the woman in the shadows of the desert.

Marian shook her head. Perhaps Djaq was partially right, maybe there was something wrong with all of these desert people. She made her way back to Psyche's cart. She felt awkward not knocking and asking for permission to enter. She opened the door slowly, feeling much the same as a thief would when breaking in.

Psyche was there, sitting perched upon her cot with a flask in hand. Two candles sat glowing steadily atop the chest of drawers in the corner. "Stop skulking around and come in." Psyche waved.

Marian did so, shutting the door firmly behind her. "I was looking for you."

"I'm touched." Psyche chortled, taking a sip from her flask. She caught the doubting looking Marian's eyes and she held up the flask for her to examine in the candle glow, "It's tea. It helps me sleep. Here," She tossed the flask over to Marian, who caught it, "drink some."

Cautiously, Marian raised the flask to her lips and took a small sip. The tea was surprisingly cold and it tasted distinctly of lemons and another herb she could not place. "Jasmine." Psyche said, catching the confusion in Marian's manner. "From the East, it's rare even for us to travel so far. Tastes good, yes?"

Marian nodded as she handed the flask back to Psyche. "The trick is to let the tea freeze in the night. If the desert is good for anything it's good for keeping things cool." She actually chuckled, "And that's the last thing anyone expects."

"I was talking to Mariel tonight." Marian said warily.

"Oh? And what did the old crone have to say?" Psyche hugged her knees to her chest, leaving room for Marian to take a seat upon the cot before her.

"She told me to ask you about the...blood on your hands?"

Psyche sighed, "She would want you to ask about that."

"What did she mean?"

"Nothing." Psyche shrugged, "A meaningless story. Mariel is toying with you, Marian."

"And you are stalling." Marian countered, "Who is toying with whom, exactly?"

Psyche slowly lowered her head, a thin grin on her face. "I can't tell whether I should be annoyed with you or if I should very well decide to admire your persistence."

"I don't need your admiration."

"Good, I never said you had it." Psyche bared her teeth viciously in a smile. "As it is I don't feel like being kept up all night again with your questions."

"So you'll tell me."

"If you silence your mouth I might be inclined to."

Marian was silent, but her cheeks burned at Psyche's branding tongue. Psyche leaned her head back against the headrest. "It was five years ago, nearing six...no one had been expecting this..."

* * *

**Hurrying through the next chapter as fast as I can. Should be up soon! As always, feel free to drop a review! **


	12. A Haunting

**Yes this story is still going. It's possibly one of the most complex fics I've ever written, hence why there have been so many inexcusable delays. To those of you still reading, do enjoy.

* * *

**

XII

A Haunting

_There wasn't much to be done after the botched attempt to kill the king. If Robin hadn't acted so quickly and roused the rest of the camp no one would ever have known they had been there. As it was Guy was left with a bedraggled group of assassins, some seriously wounded, and no where to go. _

_He forced them to march. Most men were supported by their comrades and the pace had been a slow one. He was given a cruel reputation for that march, but Guy didn't care. If they wanted to see home again they would march back to Acre where there would be physicians. But the desert was like a blank maze; hopelessly disorganized and injured the troop had gotten lost. That was when they found it. A camp; a circle of carts out in the desert like some oasis. _

_Seizing the opportunity, Guy had directed the men to make haste towards the camp. If the people offered resistance they would be killed. Injured or not, Guy was certain there were still enough able bodied fighters to finish off simple nomads. The people in the ramshackle camp did not offer resistance; however, they did not offer help initially. _

_Most of the people fled into their carts at the sight of the bedraggled group. Soldiers were soldiers after all. Guy kept his turban tight about him, shielding his face, he trusted no one; especially after the failed raid. _

_An old woman was the first to emerge, obviously the leader of the group. She asked what he wanted with them, or he had surmised, the language was not his own. He explained in English the state of his men. They needed shelter and medicine. After hearing his plea the woman nodded and directed the men into the center of the camp; speaking to them in fluent, heavily accented English. Guy had been surprised by the old woman's help. He had not expected it from nomads, but he could not refuse the help. _

_There were healers in the camp, and the old woman sent them to their task, those that had no skill in the medical arts were sent to gather supplies and lay blankets for the men to lie upon. Guy stood back and apart from the rest. There wouldn't be any thanks for him in finding the camp. He would only be remembered as the one to lead the failed assassination. The failure was still burning him from the inside out. _

_He watched the nomads tend to the other soldiers. The old woman and leader of the group was directing a figure dressed entirely in black; obviously a woman. She was carrying water and bandages and making her way round the soldiers and delivering supplies to the few healers tending to them. The old woman was obviously a mentor of some kind, judging by the way the black cloaked figure kept looking to her for approval. _

_Steadily Guy realized why the group had hidden from them previously. They were not all one race of peoples. Was this a fugitive camp? He could see the figures of children hiding in few of the carts. They must have thought they were soldiers from the city. Guy shrugged his cloak about him; it was not his fight here, nor did he care. He winced as he shifted his arms about. He glanced down to see the gash that Robin had given him. It was still bleeding slightly and he covered it with his hand, seeing it only as a reminder of his failure. _

_Out of the corner of his eye he saw the black cloaked woman approach him. He tried to back away. The woman placed the water and bandages down and removed her hood. The gaze which met his was ancient and he found he did not like staring into the woman's eyes. _

"_What do you want?" He snapped at her. _

"_Are you their Captain?" The woman asked, although her voice demanded._

"_Am I there what?" _

"_Their Captain. Their leader." _

"_You could say that." Guy stated rather gruffly. "Why?"_

_She shrugged, "You should know then that your men will need rest. They can stay for three days. Then we have to move on."_

"_Fine." Guy said dismissively. When the woman did not seem to take his hint and leave him be and snapped at her, "Well?" He kicked at the bucket of water lightly, nearly spilling it, "Get going."_

"_Don't you want to see the state of your men?" Those haunting eyes blinked at him innocently. He felt opened and exposed to this woman and he didn't like it a bit. "Don't you want to know that they will recover?"_

"_I could care less about them. They were incompetent. Let them suffer for their failure." _

"_You are strange." The woman declared like a child coming to a trivial conclusion. It was almost as if she was staring right through him. He tugged the turban about his face, grateful at least that she could hardly see his face...although those eyes seemed to try and destroy his disguise. "If you truly wanted them to suffer then you would never have asked for help." _

_Having about all he could take from this inquisitive woman, Guy grabbed her by the neck, his fingers curling about the fabric of her black dress. "And you," he hissed, "are a rather foolish woman to speak to me the way you have. Why don't you get back to your chores?"_

_The woman gave a little gasp at Guy's sudden reaction. She stiffened and she tried to lean away from him. Guy believed himself to finally be getting through to the woman. He smirked, let her fear him. She should have known better than to go about bothering him. _

_She pointed to his arm, at the gash just visible at his torn sleeve. "You are bleeding." She stated simply. _

"_What of it?" He snarled as he released her, "It's just a scratch."_

"_Sometimes it is the smallest of wounds that sting the most. Will you let me clean and bandage it for you?" _

_Why would she have asked him? He had just threatened her, choked her, and now she was asking if he would like her to bandage his arm? Was she mad? Her eyes reflected patience as she looked up at him, awaiting his answer. He shivered a bit. There was something otherwordly about this woman. He averted his gaze, staring at those eyes for too long was like falling into an abyss. "Do what you will." He found himself saying._

_The woman took his arm in her gloved hands. Guy noticed that she seemed reluctant to touch him and she did so sparingly as she pushed down the sleeve of his tunic. Her velvet covered fingers were ghostly in the way she touched him, it was as if he couldn't feel her at all. _

_The water stung the gash, but the cool droplets quickly soothed away the sting. The woman washed away the drying blood. She worked in complete silence. It took Guy a moment to realize she wasn't even holding onto his arm, he was keeping himself perfectly still all on his own. _

_Taking a small roll of bandages she wrapped the cloths about Guy's arm, carefully tucking the ends together to keep the bandage from slipping off. She rolled his sleeve down over the bandages, gently. Before he could even open his mouth to give her thanks, the woman was already gathering up her supplies to leave him. Was he certain this woman was even real and not some hallucination caused by the desert heat? _

_The woman slipped her arm though the handle of the basket. That was when he noticed it. "Your gloves are torn."_

_Her head snapped up towards him in an instant. That certainly got her attention. It had only been a small tear in the palm of her right glove, he had noticed it because he had seen a drop of red there; his blood. The woman put down the basket and looked carefully at her hands. She paled significantly as she caught sight of the tear and the drop of blood. She staggered backwards. "I have to go." She muttered breathlessly. She turned from him and ran._

"_Wait!" Guy shouted, "What's your name?! Who are you?" _

Guy awoke with a startled cry to find himself tangled in his sheets. He tried to sit up, but only succeeded in tumbling off of the bed. Cursing himself soundly he managed to untangle himself and get back to his feet. He rubbed at his tired eyes as he reflected on the dream he had had. That wasn't merely a dream. That was a memory. An insignificant memory he thought he had forgotten.

He sat down upon the edge of his bed. His chambers in Nottingham Castle were always so dark, even with the few candles upon the window ledge. It must still be late into the night, for the sun had not yet risen. He had only been back in Nottingham for a week now, and in that span of time he had been plagued with nightmares and terrors. He knew he would be visited by such demons eventually. It seemed almost fitting that his nightmares should descend upon him as soon as he returned to Nottingham. Every corridor held a memory, every room, every corner. Even the grounds outside offered him no peace. He saw Marian everywhere. He was suffocating under this intolerable and agonizing loneliness.

Yet, tonight, he had not dreamed of Marian. He had nearly forgotten about that girl he had met in the desert. He wondered, now that he remembered, how he could have so easily forgotten those eerie and ancient eyes. He gave a low, rumbling laughter. She might have been the only woman to have shown him genuine kindness, and he had forgotten it! Of course she had ran from him afterwards, but that didn't bother him, he was almost numb from feeling anything at all.

He should be rejoicing. Robin Hood was still a prisoner in the dungeons. He knew, for he checked regularly at all hours of the day. Hood was still there, just waiting for the gallows along with the rest of his pathetic gang. The Sheriff had notified Prince John of their return; a risky move considering their abject failure. However, the Sheriff meant to pacify the Prince's ire by presenting him with the execution of Robin Hood and his band of outlaws. The Prince was to come to Nottingham to bare witness to his death and since Guy had been the one responsible for his capture there was sure to be a reward. It felt rather pointless though. He would be given greater power, greater wealth, but what was this success without Marian by his side? With empty ambition, he continued to grasp at his climb to power, but it was entirely soulless.

With restless and wild energy borne from several sleep deprived nights, Guy reached for his tunic and coat. He threw them on as he stormed from his room. He marched down to the dungeons, which was lately becoming the haven to his personal hell. The midnight patrol of guards quickly let Guy pass without question.

Guy dashed over to the cell in the far back of the dungeons. He gripped the bars and stared down at the man lying huddled in the corner. The prisoner raised his head from his knees eyeing his captor with barely concealed hatred. "Couldn't stay away, eh, Gisborne?"

"You're due to be hanged." Guy said venomously. "Once Prince John arrives...I'm going to execute you."

"I apologize if I don't seem excited by the thought." Robin yawned.

Guy slammed his hand against the bars, causing them to ring with a metallic crispness, "You're going to die." He spat, his eyes whirling madly.

"Oh, and that's going to solve everything is it? Tell me, Gisborne, how have you been sleeping lately?" Robin smiled wickedly, seeing the exhaustion in Guy's mad gaze.

"_Shut up!" _Guy shouted, "Laugh all you want, Hood, but this time there's no escape. I'm going to enjoy watching you die."

"Kill me, Gisborne." Robin hissed, drawing himself over to the bars, "I swear once I am dead I will take the greatest pleasure haunting you. Oh yes, I'll terrorize you into Hell itself and once you're dead I want to see the look on your face when you look up at me from hell's fire and see me with Marian."

"You think to frighten me like some child?" Guy snorted.

"Oh no, Guy." Robin laughed, "I'm merely making you a promise. So kill me tomorrow, or within the week or within the month...I will still see you burn in Hell."

Guy tried to reach for Robin's neck through the bars, but the prisoner crawled away easily, his laughter increasing all the more until it seemed to echo throughout the dungeon. "Temper, Gisborne, jealous that I'm going to die so soon? After all I will see Marian again, won't I?"

Guy winced at the sound of her name. Robin noticed that it gave him pain to her her name. "Can't stand it can you? Hearing her name? Marian's name?" He laughed hysterically as Guy backed away. He repeated her name almost demonically, "Marian! Marian!"

Guy turned and ran, feeling his control over what little sanity he had left in him slipping away. Robin remained pressed up against the bars, laughing as he watched his enemy run away in fear. "Marian!" He continued shouting, although his tone was gradually changing. "Marian...." the name changed from a taunting call to a pleading cry for his lost wife. Tears spilled over from his eyes and ran down his grime stained face, "Marian...."

* * *

**A/N: I'm working on overdrive now with all of these fics. I promise to write as much as possible! **


	13. Out of the Desert

XIII

Out of the Desert

Psyche felt a tingling at the top of her spine. Almost as soon as she had finished speaking she had begun to feel the sensation, it was as if she was being watched from afar. Impossible, of course, the only other person in the cart with her was Marian and she had long since stopped looking at her. Marian sat cross legged upon her own cot, her brow was furrowed as she stared thoughtfully down at the blankets.

"Well?" Psyche snapped, feeling rather irritated. "What is it? What are you thinking about?"

"Oh..." Marian raised her head somewhat, her eyes flickering, "Nothing." She was obviously anticipating Psyche to pry into what she was truly thinking of. Her expectations; however, were foiled when Psyche merely shrugged and turned away from her. Marian cleared her throat, "It's just that..."

"Now we come to something." Psyche muttered, a smirk in her voice.

"The man you tended to...he'd be the only person you've ever touched." Marian mused, tapping a finger to her lips.

Psyche curled up about herself, her gloved hands rubbing up and down her knees as she hugged her legs to her chest. "That wasn't my fault."

"And you never truly saw his face..."

"What are you getting--"

"And you said yourself your nightmares started five years ago!" Marian exclaimed.

"You are rather impossible aren't you?" Psyche grumbled.

Marian leapt from her cot, "Well, then you're a great bungling fool!" She laughed, doing a slight hop skip of a dance.

"By the looks of it that makes two of us." Psyche marveled at Marian's uncharacteristic display.

"No, no no, don't you get it?!" Marian leaned against Psyche's cot, causing the woman to fling herself against the wall of the cart to avoid coming into contact with the woman. "You never saw the man's face! You had his _blood_ on your hands! You met him nearly five years ago!"

"What are you saying?" Psyche whispered, knowing exactly what Marian was trying to drive at.

"What if the soldier you met in the desert is the same man you're seeing in your dreams?!" Marian finally exclaimed eagerly.

"Ridiculous." Psyche said a bit breathlessly. "Dreams don't mean...anything!"

"Psyche let it go. It makes so much sense I doubt even Djaq could object to it. You've been dreaming of this man for nearly five years. You met a soldier nearly that long ago who, by your own admission, was able to touch you due to the rip in your gloves. He's English! I'm English!" Marian gesticulated to herself wildly, "You were supposed to come and find me! Don't you see it? I need to go back home to England, and _you_ are the one taking me. I was supposed to find you. You did me the favor of taking me home, now I'm supposed to help you!"

"_He does not exist!_" Psyche shouted, her control over her emotions slipping somewhat. She could feel her eyes welling with tears. "How dare you treat this like some...some game to be played for your enjoyment!"

"Psyche," Marian lowered her voice, "Think about it. Compare them in your mind's eye and tell me what you make of it. You're the Seer--no don't you dare give me an excuse."

Blinking back tears and glares of anger, Psyche allowed her body to relax as she closed her eyes. She could just conjure up the image of the soldier; the cold and blue eyes, the rest of his features masked. Focusing, she brought up the man in her dreams. She tried to mirror the images. She squinted her eyes shut. The eyes were the same. No, she was merely forcing herself to see the similarities. Marian was merely toying with her. Dreams meant nothing. She had no power to see into the minds and souls of other men. She opened her eyes, gasping, tears spilling out of her eyes.

"It's the same man, isn't it?" Marian asked kindly.

Psyche tried to form words, but her mouth merely opened and closed like a fish out of water. It wasn't possible. Suddenly, she found herself resenting the self-pleased smile upon Marian's face. She stopped her cries and glared at the woman. "No." She said coldly. "No they are not the same." And without waiting for a response from Marian, Psyche promptly rolled herself over to face the wall.

***

The desert was a thing of the past, and Marian could have sung her joy to be out of that hellish land. There was still ground to be covered yet, she had traversed the first leg of her journey. It would be weeks still before she set her eyes on England again. She noticed a subtle shift in life within the group of Players. There were less stops now that they no longer had to contend with the harsh sun of the desert. Sometimes they would travel through the night; always in shifts. The first drove the carts onward until the third hour of the morning, switching whenever the sand in their hourglasses ran down.

Marian preferred this mode of travel best, they would make good time this way. She didn't even mind being woken by Psyche in the early hours of the morning when it was her turn to drive their cart. If only Robin could see her now, an adopted child of the road. He would never believe this story of hers. Then again he did have quite a hard time of picturing Marian capable of taking charge of anything. That was just his petty stubbornness. She knew he secretly admired her independent spirit, even if at times it annoyed him. Guy would probably believe her straight away though. Her thoughts collided together as that man suddenly invaded her mind's eye. Shouldn't she hate him? No...she could not, even after all he had done. She had never admitted it, but some nights she was haunted by the heartbroken look she had seen upon Guy's face just before he had struck out for her blindly. She was almost sorry that she could not be the woman he so needed. She had been right when she had declared to Robin that Guy was a man deprived of love. She had tried to give him her friendship at least, but she should have known she would have ended up destroying him.

The sun was just starting to rise, and Marian felt her eyes beginning to droop. Psyche emerged from the cart, climbing up to the wagon seat. "Go get some sleep." She told her, "I'll take over."

Marian nodded her thanks and happily went back inside. Psyche stretched a bit as she gripped the reigns, clicking her tongue to urge the two horses tethered to the wagon to walk faster. With the desert gone, Psyche's constant irritation began to lessen. Overall, her mood was improving vastly. She looked over at the expanse of forest surrounding the little wagon train. They were nearing a town, if memory served her correctly. She had been traveling up and down the paths of forests and deserts and towns since she had been a toddling child. But she loved the forests best, perhaps because she had been born a child of the desert.

Laughter caught Pscyhe's attention, and she craned her head around to see Gabrielle cartwheeling about between the two lanes of wagons. Flipping back onto her feet, the girl caught sight of the black cloaked woman, and like lightening springing back towards a storming thundercloud, she ran over to her, swinging herself up onto the cart to sit beside the stern faced woman.

"Someone's in a cheery mood." Pscyhe muttered.

"Good morning to you too, Psyche." Gabrielle laughed. "When did you wake up?"

"Not but a few minutes ago. Did you rise with the sun, as well, my lark?" Psyche asked with a rare smile. She thought she hid her quiet affection for the girl remarkably well, but the entire band new of Pscyhe's almost sisterly bond with Gabrielle. Both Gabrielle and Josh, the two waifs, had been taken under Psyche's wing.

"Maybe I did." Gabrielle winked, "Where are we heading to? Say it's a town...no, a Castle. You've performed in Castles, haven't you, Psyche? Wouldn't that be grand..."

Psyche chuckled, "No Castles, at least not this time through. We can not risk it." She was referring to the presence of Marian, Will, and Djaq. "However, there is a town near here...if I remember right. Perhaps there will be a time for you to show off your singing then, but only, if you're patient."

"Oh, I have patience, in abundance." Gabrielle retorted as Psyche chuckled. This was going to be a most wonderful day.

***

Annweiler, that was the town that Mariel had said they were coming upon. They would break camp at the foothills of the mountains which guarded the town. In the morning they would announce their presence and perform for their usual fees. Supplies were dwindling fast, and coin was necessary in order to secure them for their journey overseas to England.

Restless from a day of traveling, Gabrielle had begged to be allowed to wander the forests for a time before being forced to return to her cart. Mariel had denied her request, so like any stubborn child she turned to the second highest authority, but Psyche offered her only the same answers. It was growing dark, the forest was unfamiliar, and she was too young. So, pouting, she set off for her wagon. While crossing the camp grounds she met up with Will.

"You certainly don't look too pleasant." Will commented, "What's troubling you?"

"I wanted to explore a bit. No harm in that is there?" Gabrielle asked.

Will shook his head. Gabrielle sighed, "But no one will let me go."

"Well, try seeing things from their point of view," He urged, "They're worried you'll get lost or hurt if you go off on your own."

"I'm not a child, you know." Gabrielle grunted.

"I never said you were."

"Then there should be no harm in letting me go."

Will chuckled, "Tell you what, I'll go with you if you like."

"Really?"

"Just near the camp, mind. Your friends would have my head if I let something happen to you." Will replied, stilling Gabrielle's over eager excitement.

"Nothing will happen! I promise!"

Will checked his hatchet, which hung from his belt, making sure that it was secure. He tilted his head off towards the direction of the trees and with a beaming smile, Gabrielle went bounding off with her new companion.

Will found that the young girl's energy was inexhaustible. The entire forest was her playground and she seemed to marvel at every tree and twig. She had not been born in a woodland, and even though she had traveled through forests several times with the rest of the Players, the sheer amount of greenery astonished her every time. After a while, Will had decided that they had wandered enough.

"Just a bit further." Gabrielle pleaded, "Look, race you up to the top of the mountain! Bet we can see the entire forest from there!"

"Gabrielle, we really should get back, I told you we weren't---" But his words fell upon deaf ears as Gabrielle gave a mischievous little laugh and tore up the mountainside.

"Come on! We'll be back before they can miss us!"

"Gabrielle!" Will shouted, running after her.

He could hear her laughing all the way to the top, so he never once feared he would lose her. The mountain itself was more or less a large hill when compared to its twins which stood on either side of it.

"Look at that!" Gabrielle cried, "It's a castle!" She was staring off at the peak of the mountain, where she could see the faint flickering flow of lights. "I'm going to see it!"

"No, Gabrielle, get back here now!"

She raced away, nearly tripping herself over the sandstone rock which made up the rockier ledges of the mountain. Out of breath and panting heavily she found herself looking up into one of the many windows of a castle tower. She gave a breathless laugh and sang a taunting victory song, mocking Will's slow pace. She fell over onto the foliage beneath her, catching her breath.

"Are you running from someone?" A voice from above asked quizzically.

Immediately, Gabrielle sprang back to her feet, "Who said that?" She drew her knife quickly and looked around her.

"Up here."

Gabrielle looked up at the tower, only to see a face outlined by the candle flickering in the window. It was a man. He waved down at her. "I didn't mean to startle you, child, my apologies."

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice piping with breathless curiosity.

"My name is Richard."

"Richard?" Gabrielle repeated, "Just Richard?"

The man laughed richly, "If it pleases you to know, most people call me Richard the Lionheart."

"Well, that's a rather ridiculous name. I liked it better when it was just Richard." Gabrielle retorted.

"_Gabrielle!_" Will's cry of outrage startled her.

"That would not be your name, pray tell?" Richard chuckled, pointing down at her.

"Unfortunately, yes...." She was prevented from speaking further when Will stormed up to her and grabbed her arm, he was breathing even more heavily than she was.

"You little sneak. No wonder Mariel saw fit to keep you in camp. I'm going to drag you back myself, and ask her to put a leash on you!"

"Will," Gabrielle spoke in her most placating of tones, "Be so good as to meet my new friend, Richard." She pointed up to the candle in the window and the man leaning against the window ledge.

"Richard?" Will questioned looking up, eyes narrowing, trying to get a better glimpse of him.

"Well, he likes to be called Richard the Lionheart, but I said--"

"_What did you say?!_"

"No need to shout at the child. She speaks the truth." Richard said, his voice demanding silence.

Will recognized the voice and immediately he got down on his knees, "Sire, forgive me...I...what....what are you doing here?"

"Sire?" Gabrielle wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"First, explain to me who _you_ are." Richard ordered.

"Will Scarlett, Sire, I came to the Holy Land with Robin Hood." Will quickly explained.

Richard laughed loudly at this declaration, "Robin spoke truthfully when he said his men where indeed everywhere. I wonder how I could not have foreseen such a thing. Will Scarlett, you travel back to England, do you?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Will you take back with you a message, it is of the gravest importance."

"I would be honored...."

"I'm being held here against my will." Richard explained quickly, "There is to be a ransom in order to secure my release. My brother will no doubt seek to extend the ransom---"

"Ransom?" Will seemed outraged, "Sire, we needn't bother with messages. We can free you tonight!"

"You'd be a fool! Better that you remain alive so that you can bring word to Robin Hood!"

"But..."

"Are you questioning my orders, Will Scarlett?"

"No, Sire." Will sighed, "I will do as you command."

"Good man. You had best hurry away from here. There is a patrol which comes 'round this tower near midnight."

With a nod Will took off down the mountainside. Gabrielle looked back up at Richard, "Are you a King?" She asked plainly.

He laughed and nodded, amused at the girl's lack of formality.

"I've never met a King before." She said.

"Gabrielle!" Will shouted.

"Don't worry!" Gabrielle called over her shoulder as she raced to catch up to her friend, "We'll save you!"

"God speed to you, child."

***

"Djaq! Marian!"

"Psyche! Mariel!"

Both Will and Gabrielle ran pell mell down in the center of the campgrounds, the fire had long burn down to merely embers, but the camp was still flooded with activity. Psyche stood like a nightmare at the heart of the activity, her arms folded and her eyes dark and stormy.

"_Where have you been?!_" She roared, "Do you realize," she pounded her way over to the wilting Gabrielle, "how long you have been gone?! I was about ready to sent search parties after you two!"

"Sorry..." Gabrielle mumbled.

"Sorry?! Do you have any idea of the worry you caused m--the camp!" Psyche thundered.

"Psyche, it was my fault, I gave her leave to go, but that's not important now I--"

Will's rebuke had no place among the stormclouds of Psyche's wrath, "And you!" She pointed a finger at him, "Letting her wander off like that! If I could I would wring your neck here and now and carry your head on a spike as a warning to others who would think to abuse our hospitality!"

"Psyche!" Mariel boomed out, hobbling over towards them, "That's enough!"

"But--"

"I said, that's enough. Now," Mariel sighed, "I believe Will was trying to tell us something rather important."

"Oh, Grandmother, we--"

"Gabrielle," Mariel quipped, "Return to your cart this instant, I shall deal with you come the morning, and be assured I shall make whatever punishment Psyche had in store for you look like the heavenly glow of the angels. To your cart, child!"

Righteously beaten, Gabrielle turned tail and and walked back to her cart, all the while grumbling excuses under her breath. Once all eyes were on Will again he cleared is throat, feeling rather uneasy at being the center of attention. "Are Djaq and Marian nearby?" He first asked.

"We're here." Djaq emerged from the crowd along with Marian. "Are you all right?"

He dashed over to them, clutching Djaq's hands in his own, his eyes ablaze. "I am well. I have news for the both of you, it concerns everything!"

"Stop talking in riddles!" Marian exclaimed, "What is it?"

"It's King Richard!"

"The King?" Marian gasped.

"Yes! It was Gabrielle who discovered him. He's being held in a tower atop the mountain. If she hadn't run so far ahead I never would have found him. It's Prince John's doing if ever I could guess! He's being held prisoner for a ransom. We are to go to England and tell Robin."

"The King has been captured?" Marian tried to understand, her brain in a flurry of anxiety.

"Yes, we're his only chance at freeing him. We know where he is!"

"Then there is only one thing we can do." Marian surmised, her mind whirling with ideas already, "We are going to rescue King Richard."

* * *

**A/N: Glad that you guys are still invested in this story as things are about to really heat up! I've still got several twists up my sleeve, not to mention we are about three or so chapters away from reuniting Marian with Robin as well as having Guy come face to face with a certain mystical someone. Lots of good stuff in store!!**


	14. Rouges and Rescues

**So I figured I've kept you all in sufficient suspense over what happens next and now I can reveal the next few chapters. :) Just kidding, I wish it was only that. This story is probably the most complicated little tale I've ever tried to tell. I'm determined to finish it and I don't care if no one is reading it by the time I crawl my way to the end. I just have to get there. I'd advise you to stick around though. As the two parallel stories are about to meet up and all hell will break loose. Do enjoy the chaos.

* * *

**

XIV

Rouges and Rescues

A full moon hung in the midnight sky, lighting up the usually dark forest. Two men stood on the outskirts, gazing up at the walls surrounding Nottingham. "So," one of the men reflected, "You believe Robin Hood is being held prisoner in there?"

"I don't_ believe _it. I know it." The other man replied.

"And how do you propose we get him out?"

"I'm thinking about it!"

"Really? Tell me, Allan, how helpful is it pacing about and cursing?"

"About as helpful as your snide remarks, Tuck." Allan fired back. "You've never been to Nottingham. You don't know what it's like trying t' get in an' out o' the castle."

"Let me try to imagine it. There are at least two pairs of guards stationed on each side of the battlements. We could attempt to climb up the walls, but we'd be expected and woefully outnumbered. So, we must assume you know of another, less guarded entrance into the grounds. A passage way?"

Allan shifted about, slightly uncomfortable with Tuck's intuition. "Yeah...there's one that leads into the cloisters..."

"Excellent. So if it isn't the breaking in which bothers you it's the breaking out. The passage would be useless once the guards became aware of our presence. Now a castle dungeon will have two doors. The first will be watched by at least a pair of guards, possibly more if they have Robin Hood stored in the vaults. That's two for me and two for you. We take the keys off of the guards and go into the dungeons. The jailor and at least four more guards will doubtlessly be waiting for us. If we are able to get past them we can rescue Robin and the rest of your friends. Now, how to get back out? Simple. Take the clothes off of the soldiers backs and we can easily march out of the castle undetected. If the number of guards is as I predict there will be plenty of uniforms for us all."

"Not being funny, but it's scary how fast ya came up with that. I don't think Robin himself coulda done that." Allan mused.

"How do you usually go about these operations?"

"That ain't the point. I'm not the one usually on the planning end o' things." Allan scratched his head. "But your plan works."

"I'm sure it will be as easy as breaking out of an abby." Tuck said.

"An abby? Tuck what in hell's name 'ave you...you know what? I don't need t' hear it now. Let's go." Allan shook his head as the two of them headed for Nottingham. Allan occasionally glanced over at his companion, for the first time wondering if whether or not this was a man he should be trusting with his life and the life of his friends.

***

The crossing into Nottingham town was relatively simple. Allan kept his hood up and about himself, feeling that at every corner he was going to run into one of the guards. His hand was shaking towards the short sword he kept at his side. He was itching to fight. It was more that just the usual bloodrage though. This rescue mattered so much more than anything ever had in his life.

He had lost the respect of his leader and of his friends. He knew he was still a suspected traitor in their eyes. This was his only chance to prove them wrong. If he managed to save them all they would have to accept him as one of the gang again. They would never doubt him again, and perhaps an ounce of the guilt he had been feeling since he had left the Holy Land would wash away from him. He had been trying to keep such demons at bay, but it was getting harder, especially now that he was back in Nottingham once more. If he had only come to his senses sooner none of them would be in this position.

He should have rescued Marian when he had had the chance back at the inn before he and the Sheriff took leave to the Holy Land. If he had only been thinking clearly instead of running off back to Robin with his tail between his legs he would have saved Marian and she would have still been alive. He knew it was foolish to blame himself for her death. After all he hadn't been the one to run a sword through her, and yet blood still stained his hands. He wouldn't think such things now. He would rescue Robin and the gang and he would absolved of his betrayal and his guilt.

The tunnel which led into the cloisters of the castle grounds was exactly as Allan remembered it. If nothing else, his stay at Nottingham Castle had given him insight into the secrets of the building. Insight he would be altogether too happy to share with Robin once they were safely away and back at the camp.

He drew his sword once they emerged on the other side. Tuck had no weapon--unless one counted the heavy bible strapped to his back, but Allan was willing to wager that this monk would be just as deadly with his bare hands as he was with a blade.

Tuck timed their movements out perfectly with the nightly paces of the guards down the corridors and hallways of the castle. Allan had the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that Tuck had done this before. A long talk would be in order once all was said and done. The journey was easy to the dungeons, but Allan was about to relax just yet.

They approached the four guards, who stood at the dungeon door, in complete silence. Once their forms became recognizable in the torchlight the guards immediately drew their weapons. A cry of alarm sprang from one of the men's lips, but it was quickly silenced by the book of God, justly swung by Tuck's hands. Dropping the book, Tuck swung out with his fists for the second guard. He grappled with the man, trying to knock him over the head. Allan, meanwhile, was engaged with the other two guards. His sword in hand he lashed out, felling one man while trying to fend off the other. He managed to back one of the guards against the stone pillar behind him. Allan rammed the hilt of his blade against the man's nose, causing his head to snap back into the pillar. He fell with a thin groan, blood pouring from his broken nose.

Tuck rose from his fight, wiping his hands upon his habit. The guard was dead, run through with his own sword. Allan recoiled from the sight. "Why did you kill him for?!"

"It was necessary." Tuck remarked calmly, "A sacrifice had to be made."

"What kinda monk are you?" Allan hissed suspiciously.

Tuck smiled, "One that intends to save your friends. Now, let's get this door open."

Fumbling with the keys, Allan opened the door. His spine was prickling; he did not like having his back facing Tuck. He didn't know why, but he felt as if a dagger would be lodged between his shoulder blades if he did. His anxiety was part of the reason why charged headlong into the darkened cells, sword aloft. The guards didn't stand a chance against him and they were soon rendered unconscious by the hilt of Allan's blade. Tuck raised an eyebrow at him as if to complement him on a job neatly done.

"Allan?! I don't believe it! You came back for us?"

Allan could have beamed at the note of disbelief in Much's voice. He approached the cell where he and John were being held in. He waved the keys aloft in triumph as he soon set them into the lock. "Sorry t' disappoint you lot, but I do keep my word."

"Sometimes." Much reminded him with a laugh as he broke free of his prison and clapped his friend on the back.

"Aye, sometimes." Allan nodded.

"Who are you?" John asked Tuck.

"Call him Tuck, we'll have time for introductions later." Allan said quickly as he dashed over to Robin's cell and began to unlock the grating. "C'mon, Robin. Said I'd come back for ya didn't I?"

Robin Hood looked up at Allan with a mixture of disbelief and surety. He did not smile or laugh the way Much did. He merely raised himself up onto his feet and met Allan as he swung the grating open for him. He nodded to him, "Well done, Allan." he said quietly.

"We don't have much time before someone notices the guards are missing. We have to leave now." Tuck grunted, breaking the reunion.

"Right," Allan said feeling rather uncomfortable taking charge, "Everyone take the guards' armour. We're gonna walk right outta the castle." He smiled crookedly.

Robin plucked his bow and quiver of arrows from the wall that they had been mounted too. He nodded, "Do as he says." There were no questions. The gang set about disguising themselves. Once securely fitted into the guards' uniforms they marched from the dungeon. They would only have a short time before another patrol caught them out in the open crossing the grounds. They would have to move quickly and silently if they hoped to get out of Nottingham alive.

***

Guy was depriving himself of sleep. He had successfully gone three days without rest and he felt as if he could go the rest of his life without ever shutting his eyes again. Nervous energy made him jumpy and unpredictable. Just that same day he had killed a servant for getting in his way. It was a petty infraction. The poor boy had only tripped and it had earned him a sword through his gut. Other guards and servants had seen the murder. No one knew what to think of it. Guy had always been cruel, but he had never killed so suddenly and without reason. He was mad. Rumours were beginning to spread throughout Nottingham of how Sir Guy of Gisborne had lost his mind.

Many of the people hoped that given the knight's current state the Sheriff would have no further use for him and have him done away with. Much to everyone's fear the Sheriff seemed to delight in Guy's murderous insanity. He no longer had to deal with hesitations or doubts over his conscious. He did exactly as he was told. The Sheriff felt things had reverted back to the way they were when Guy first joined his service. No, on second thought he was of even greater use now, there was nothing to hold him back. He was the perfect weapon against any of his opponents.

The Sheriff did not know how Guy spent his nights; however. Some of the guards often thought they saw him roaming about the castle halls at night, moaning and crying over the Lady Marian, but no one wanted to go and prove such an accusation. The castle was becoming haunted by a living ghost. So the guards who usually patrolled the halls kept themselves to the battlements or the towers. No one ventured into the corridors past midnight. No one wanted to have a run-in with the mad knight.

Guy had grown accustomed to being unwatched and undisturbed when he chose to wander the castle, sleepless and with an ever increasing restless energy. So when he saw five guards making their way down the hallway nearest him he grew immediately suspicious. "You!" He shouted to the small patrol, drawing his sword. "What are you doing down here?"

"Patrol." Came the sharp retort. The patrol froze as Gisborne approached them; his bloodshot eyes scanning them carefully. He tried to see the faces hidden under the helmets.

"All of the guards are up in the tower." Guy sneered, "So, I'll ask you again. What are you doing down here?"

The patrol was silent for a moment and Guy expected that they had either been sneaking into the kitchens, or they had been dared by their captains to come and find the ghost that had been haunting Nottingham for the past few days.

"We don't have time for this." Came the annoyed hiss from one of the guards as he slammed his fist down upon Guy's arm. The action caught Guy completely by surprise and his sword clattered to the ground. He had no time to contemplate why the guards were attacking him, or how to fight back. He was slammed against the wall and the guard who had disarmed him punched him, causing his head to knock into the stone. His world went blissfully dark and for the first time in three days Guy shut his eyes.

"What d'ya think he meant that all the guards are up in the tower?" One of the guards asked, pulling off his helmet to wipe away the sweat forming on his brow.

"Does it matter, Allan? We have to run...now!"

The rag-tag patrol of guards tore through the castle halls and out towards the grounds. As there were no soldiers about they were able to reuse the tunnel which led out into the town. Once out of the castle the group continued to run through the darkened streets. The forest was close. Safety was almost at hand.

The city gates were the last hurdle to be jumped over. Only two guards blocked the way and they did not prove much of a challenge for five. Clearing Nottingham the patrol of guards ran into the midnight forest, peeling off helmets and chestplates as they ran.

Much did a dance of happiness as soon as the gang paused to catch their breath. "Thought that they could hold us! Hah! Ran right past them! Never should have counted us out, eh?"

"Was rather good wasn't it?" Allan panted, hands on his knees as he bent over, sucking air into his lungs.

"And you!" Much exclaimed, clapping Tuck on the back, "Knocking Gisborne over the head as easy as you please. Thought we were done for there."

"Yes, it does seem we owe you our thanks..." Robin said.

"Friar Tuck at your service, Robin Hood."

Robin raised an eyebrow at the newcomer. "Tuck, you helped save all our lives. We are in your debt."

"Uh, hang on now?" Allan gestured to himself.

"The both of you." Robin managed a small glimmer of humour at Allan's display of indignation.

"To the camp?" John asked.

Robin nodded. Much sighed, stretching his arms up over his head as he walked alongside his friends. "Lord, I could sleep for an age. It'll be good to be back at the camp again."

"Don't get too comfortable, Much." Robin said. "We haven't time to relax. Prince John is coming to Nottingham. After tonight the Sheriff will be after our blood and with the Prince's aid he'll tear about the whole of the shire to find us. We need to be ready for whatever comes our way."

"We're with ya, Robin." Allan said.

"Aye, all of us." John nodded.

"You might as well count me in too." Tuck said, although he seemed to find this all rather amusing.

Robin felt a surge of pride for his gang. Much was the first to speak, "We are Robin Hood."

In the darkened forest the silence was momentarily broken by five voices whispering together, "We are Robin Hood!"

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter is already completed and it will be up in three or so days. My thanks to those who are still following this story. You have the patience of the saints. :) **


	15. Friendship Found

XV

Friendship Found

"Explain this to me again." Psyche sighed as she rubbed at her temples. It was late and all she desired was her cot. Her headaches become persistent when she was up later than she ought to be.

Marian stamped her foot in impatient frustration. "King Richard is being held in the tower. Will, Djaq, and I are going to rescue him. We will bring him back to the camp and we will take him with us back to England."

"Now explain your plan to me in a way that is less suicidal!" Psyche snapped. "Your King is being held for ransom and you expect to march into the tower he is being held prisoner in and just...bring him back to the camp?!"

"My friends and I have undertaken far more dangerous adventures than this." Marian said, not at all pleased that Psyche doubted her.

"And have you thought about the rest of us?" Psyche shouted, "How will we be able to travel anywhere with a fugitive king in our midsts? People will be looking for him. Soldiers, assassins! I will not put the welfare of this troop in danger because your king needed a rescuing!"

"He's the King of England! If he is being held for ransom how long do you think it'll be before Prince John claims England as his own after he has his brother killed? Or before were an invaded by France or..."

"England is _not_ my concern!" Psyche said, "My only concern is for my people alone! I will not risk their lives for such foolishness."

"Then we will go it alone and we will make our back to England alone." Marian said stubbornly, glaring at the woman.

"Then you will also die alone, or be stranded until you are captured." Psyche spat.

"You really will not help us?" Marian asked.

"King Richard is your concern. He is not mine." Psyche shrugged.

"I thought we were friends."

Psyche did not like guilt being placed upon her. Marian was not a friend, she had merely been her travelling companion for the last few months. She was not a friend. She had shared secrets with her, and spoken truths to her no one else knew save for herself and Mariel, but Marian was not her friend. She turned away from her, her cloak brushing lightly over the grass, collecting dew drops upon the hem. "I cannot help you." she said finally. She tugged her hood up and over her head and walked off back to her wagon.

"Fine then," Marian sniffed slightly, "I do not need your help." She felt a stab of betrayal. She had opened her heart to Psyche more times than she could count. She had shared stories and told her doubts in her heart and soul that not even Robin Hood had known of. She could not offer a sacrifice even so? She would be so cold? Marian had thought she had been breaking through a barrier with Psyche, but she was as she had always been; not to be touched.

She stalked over to Djaq and Will who had been conferring with themselves as Marian spoke to Psyche. "Well?" Djaq asked, seeing her approach, "What did she say."

"We're on our own now."

***

The way up the mountainside was steep and tiresome. The ground; however, was easy enough to traverse with Will's help. None of them were as agile as the boundless Gabrielle, but each had a force which drove them on. It took everything within Marian to restrain herself from dashing blindly up the mountain to the tower where King Richard stood waiting. She had to be patient. She recalled the time she had run headlong into Clun with Robin and the rest of the gang. She had nearly killed them all in her haste. How she had fumed over her punishment and chastisement. It was only now that she truly understood what Robin had been trying to teach her. She had to cautious, not for her own sake, but for the sake of those who followed her. She was the leader of this trio, it was their lives she held in her hand. She made silent vow to herself that when she returned to Nottingham she would never doubt her husband's advice so quickly again.

Thoughts of Robin lent a lightness to her step. Rescuing the King would just another rung on the ladder she had to climb in order to get home. Just thinking of the look on Robin's face when she returned with the King of England was enough to gladden her heart. She didn't need the help of a cowardly band of simple players. They were not trained fighters. They worked in trickery and acting, but life was not such a simple stage and Marian could not count on the help of those who fooled people for a living.

"Hold!" Will suddenly called out. The three halted and huddled over towards the tree he stood behind. "The tower is through those trees, in the clearing. The battlement wall goes through there." He gestured east, "and there," and west.

"Guards on every watchtower." Marian surmised.

"Will and I can take the two watchtowers, and you can get into the tower." Djaq whispered, "Get the King and we'll come for you after we finish with the guards."

"And how will we get out?" Marian asked as she watched Will already preparing the three sets of ropes they had stolen from one of the supply wagons. "Pray that no one steals our rope?" She joked.

"Pray very hard." Djaq retorted, "Or will be marching through an unknown castle laced with soldiers and Allah knows what else."

Marian swallowed any further comments. "Do you think we have a chance?"

"We're Robin Hood's men--"

"And women." Djaq interjected.

"And women," Will nodded with a faint smile, "We have more than just a chance."

It was good enough for Marian, however foolish it seemed. Will handed her her length of rope and they padded silently towards their respective positions. Will took the eastern battlement while Djaq took the west. Marian looked up at the great tower looming in front of her and felt her breath catch and the thought of the man waiting behind the window. A candle light still flickered inside, he was still awake. Marian waited for both Will and Djaq to make their way half way up the battlement walls before she set up a call.

"Your Majesty!" She whisper-hissed with all the breath in her lungs. "Sire!"

A shape of a man appeared in the window and leaned out searching the grounds for who called. "Here! Here, Sire!" Marian waved, the pressure in her head from the danger and excitement of the situation threatened to knock her over.

"Who calls me?" King Richard barked, not recognizing the figure below as either Will or Gabrielle.

"Lady Marian of Locksley!" She answered back, her heart pounding as she used her husband's name.

"Impossible. The Lady Marian is dead. If you are an imposter from my brother's service or some assassin you do a poor job of your work." King Richard snapped.

"No imposter, Your Majesty. You may think me one if you wish, but I'll ask you not to debate it with me until we have gotten you away from here. My friends, Will and Djaq are already making their way up the battlements as we speak."

This gave the king pause, "Is this true?"

"Very, Sire and we must hurry, for if they reach the top and the guards alert the rest of the castle we shall be in trouble indeed! Can you catch this rope?" Before awaiting an answer Marian threw the rope high. King Richard managed to snag the very tip of it before it came tumbling back to the earth.

"Do you intend for me to climb down?" He asked.

"I could not hold your weight, Sire. I am going to climb up and we are going to tie it off and wait for Will and Djaq to silence the guards before climbing down."

"Suicidal." The King said.

"Then as a ghost I have nothing to worry about." Marian retorted. She heard the King laugh, and at just that moment the commotion of a fight could be heard. "We don't have time, can you hold it, Sire?"

"Hurry, Lady Marian."

With no time to lose Marian began to climb up the rope to the window ledge of the tower. The climb was dizzying and it matter not how fast she went. She could feel herself spinning on thin air, her legs constantly knocking against the cold stone of the tower wall. She felt as vulnerable as a butterfly caught in a storm, one gust would crush her wings to dust and dash her to the ground. She kept her eyes ahead, she could see the King holding the rope and with each climb he came into greater focus until at last she had reached the window ledge. She was pulled into the tower by the King and quickly he tied the rope to the banister of the bed in the center of the room.

Marian drew a knife from her belt as the King drew his sword. On a silent count the King threw open the door. They were met by the two soldiers who stood to guard the door. Unprepared for the attack, both Lady and King slit the throats of the unfortunate pair. King Richard was more familiar with the castle and he led her out to the battlements. Will and Djaq had met up in battle as they fought there way over to the tower. There were soldiers then they had counted on being. They were grievously outmatched.

"Sire!" Will shouted as he saw King Richard running towards them.

"Will, I thought I gave you an order to not attempt a rescue." Richard roared above the din of clashing swords.

"Sorry, Your Majesty..." Will ducked a sword and struck out with his own blow, "had to disobey you. Couldn't go back to England without you, Sire."

"We have to clear a path!" Djaq shouted, "We have to get down now, or more soldiers will be sent for." She cursed as she tried to get to the rope tied off at the battlement, but a soldier saw what she was attempting to do and he swiftly slice the rope away.

"You have to give them credit, Djaq." Marian roared as she managed to tumble one soldier over the wall, "They're certainly smarter than the guards in Nottingham!"

"You think now is the time for that, Marian?" Djaq admonished. "Marian! Look out!" A guard was advancing from behind her. Marian turned about to face him, but his sword was already aiming down for her. Her knife would not be enough to block the attack.

A loud gong sounded from behind the soldier and Marian watched in relieved awe as the man fell over unconscious. Another hooded figure was standing behind the soldier a familiar gnarled walking staff was held in her gloved hands.

"Psyche?!" Marian gasped.

"Is this your idea of a rescue?" Psyche panted, "Pitiful, but I did warn you did I not?"

"What...what are you doing here?" Marian felt stars explode in the back of her head at the realization that her friend had decided to help her.

"I came to the conclusion that I actually like you." Psyche shrugged, "That and you stole my best rope and I couldn't let you just walk off with it."

Marian found herself grinning from ear to ear, "Thank you." She said never meaning anything.

"Thank me later if we live." Psyche grunted, "Although I'm not sure Mariel will appreciate me dying and not giving her back the use of her walking staff."

"You have to get out." King Richard said to Marian, "There's too many soldiers, and it will do me no good to get you all killed."

"I'm not leaving you Sire!" Marian shouted.

"Marian! How long do you think it will be before one of the guards finds the rope leading down the tower? If one of them gets there before you, you will have no way out! I will not be harmed, you will be killed. Get down from the castle and go to England! You will do me a better service if you alert Robin of where I am!" The King demanded.

"Your King is right." Psyche grunted, "The rope holds. How do you think I managed to make my way up here. You tried, Marian, but even the bravest fail at least once."

"No! I can't leave!"

"Marian, would you disobey my orders?" King Richard shouted.

Marian looked about her in desperation, her frustration showing as she fought back one of the soldiers. Somewhere down the battlements a bell was being tolled, alerting the entire castle of their presence. Psyche prodded Marian in the arm with her staff and whistled sharply to Will and Djaq. The two ran to catch up with the rest of their group, trailing a newly reinforced line of soldiers behind them.

They ran back to the tower and they barely made into the King's chambers when the soldiers set upon them. King Richard slammed the door and held it through the battering of the men beyond. "Get out!" He urged. "I will not be able to hold them back for long!"

Will and Djaq were already making their way down the tower. Psyche steadied the rope, tightening the knots as the pair descended. Marian looked over helplessly at her King, "Your Majesty there is still time...."

He shook his head, "I am already indebted to you for what you have done for me tonight, Lady Marian. No one in England knows I have been captured yet, save for you and your friends. For whatever my brother's reason for allowing his allies to hold me here are, he cannot continue to do so if the entire kingdom knows what he has done. You must go back to England."

"The rope will hold. Marian go!" Psyche urged, eyeing the door with a worried eye. The soldiers were steadily pressing the door open, and the King would not be able to hold them back for much longer.

With the greatest reluctance Marian went to the window. "I will not fail you again, Your Majesty." She said before she descended down the tower.

Psyche leaned out over the window ledge to make sure that Marian was at least half way down before she herself forced herself over the edge, rope in hand. From above she heard the sound of a door crashing open and sounds of violent shouting. She looked below to see Marian release the rope and jump down as soon as she close enough to do so. She could see her wave her arms upwards at her, urging her to hurry.

Psyche gasped as she felt the rope above her give ever so slightly. It was as if the rope was loosing it's former strength. She looked up in horror to see one of the castle guards cutting through the rope. In her panic she tried to force her way down the terror at a rate that would have sent her tumbling down, if it was not for her gloves, which were plucked and pulled at by the fibres of the rope, allowing her to maintain her grip.

Then she was falling through thin air as the rope fell from the tower window. She could not even scream in her shock. Although she was well aware she could hear Marian screaming her name. She plummeted to the ground and the landing was painful and hard, but in her shocked state she did not know how she should still be alive.

She heard a voice from beside her, "I think you broke my ankle."

Psyche's eyes went wide as she realized Marian had attempted to catch her. She pulled herself from atop the woman and rolled over onto the grass, breathing heavily. She could not be sure if it was exhilaration for this foolhardy scheme or fright over being touched. She brushed her gloved hands over the thick fabric of her dress. She had not felt her upon her and the small comfort that no real contact had actually been made was enough to calm her.

As the shock wore off she became aware of an acute pain her leg, "I think you broke my ankle as well." She retorted. She was lucky that was all that was broken.

Marian lay on her back, panting. "You came for us. You said it wasn't your concern. Why did you come back?"

"I meant what I said, I have no concern for your England or your King....but you are one of us." Psyche admitted grudgingly as she rose on her feet, careful not to put weight upon her bad leg, "My friend?" She held out her hand to help her up.

Marian stared up at the night cloaked figure above her. Psyche never extended her hand to anyone and she could read the slight paranoia on her face as she made the gesture. Marian realized that this would be the only opportunity she would ever have to make such a bond with her. She clasped her hand in hers as she was hauled to her feet. She winced as she felt pressure on her ankle. Psyche quickly pulled her gloved hand away, clenching it and unclenching it at her side.

There was a sense of familiarity about this. Marian felt a stab of an unidentifiable emotion course through her. Psyche broke the silence, turning she limped back towards the forest leading down the mountainside, "Come." Her voice was raspy from shouting, "We should head back to camp. We leave at first light. It is still a week's journey to the coast and then the sea awaits us. It is still a long way back to your England."

* * *

**A/N: So now Marian must return to England and alert Robin of King Richard's capture**. **Meanwhile Robin is going to be on the run from Guy and the Sheriff and there is still the matter of Prince John's arrival in Nottingham. **

**We are far from finished, folks. :)  
**


	16. Homecoming

**Finally! My inspiration for this story returns!

* * *

**

XVI

Homecoming

A long howl echoed through the forest. A hunt was on. A man came darting out from the trees, dashing through the undergrowth. "They're coming!" He roared, leaping over a fallen log and landing heavily upon the ground. He gritted his teeth as his knees for a brief moment, took the full weight of his body. He had not time to waste; however, as the dogs were close behind.

The sleek and black furred bodies moved like wraiths behind him. They were circling their prey, their jaws snapped at empty air, already eager to sink their teeth into something far more substantial. The man tore off in zig-zagging direction, carefully running down a hillside and veering off into a dense patch of brush. "All ready?" He called as she kept up his pace, huffing and blowing like a bellows.

"Keep 'em coming, Much!" A voice called out down a rocky slope.

"Oh they're coming!" Much shouted as he ran.

As soon as Much led the howling pack into the midst of a canyon there came a loud _twang_ and a few whines of animal anguish which alerted the men that the trick had worked. Much scrambled upwards through the canyon. He slammed into what was seemingly solid rock. A lever groaned at the pressure exerted upon itself and the ground of the pathway rustled and sprang upright like a trap door.

"Hurry!" Tuck shouted from within, gesturing for Much to run towards the camp as fast as he could.

Much put on an extra burst of speed as he jogged up the small hillside, as soon as he was safely inside the camp, Allan sprang into sight. As he ran into the camp both he and Tuck pulled down on the leaf-covered awning, sufficiently concealing them from sight just a troop of soldiers came pouring into the canyon.

For a time there was only silence as the soldiers patrolled the area. The gang could see the shape of legs and feet as they trampled over the very roof of the outlaw's lair. Two dogs, the only pair to have avoided the cleverly hidden trap, came sniffing wildly amongst the foliage. They whined and scratched at the earth. The soldiers were bemused at this action. The outlaws were nowhere to be seen, but the dogs seemed insistent that they were right here.

A false trail; they decided, and, cursing their luck and the outlaws they led the whimpering and howling dogs away deeper into the forest. The outlaws let out a well deserved sigh of relief. That had been too close for comfort. This was only the third instance of this game of cat and mouse. The Sheriff was obviously getting serious about capturing Robin Hood and his gang. With the Prince due to arrive in Nottingham at any given day, the Sheriff was determined to serve Robin's head up on a silver platter for the Prince to gloat over.

But Robin wasn't giving the Sheriff the satisfaction. Even though the last month had been a daunting task. It was becoming harder and harder to get money and supplies to the villagers, but somehow they managed. Tuck was an added bonus to the gang's depleted ranks. He seemed to know subtle tricks on how to take a man's purse without him ever suspecting it was missing, and how to break in and out of the castle as if they were no more than mirages of smoke and mist. He told them he was a humble monk, but Robin was beginning to question this monk's holiness, but he had grown to find him an invaluable asset. What did it matter if the man was not what he claimed to be? His heart was clearly in the right place and he had never done anything to give himself away as a spy, in fact, there was never a time where he was out of the gang's sight. A blessing indeed.

Much was the first to break the tedious silence. He pushed aside his cloak with a dramatic flourish, exposing two hefty sacks of coins. "Spoils of war," he announced, dumping them in the centre of the camp with the rest of the treasures they had collected that day alone.

"Well done, Much!" Robin exclaimed. "At this rate, we'll have enough to make a drop off at all of the villages by tomorrow."

"It's not nearly enough though, is it?" Tuck asked, "For what the Sheriff actually takes from these people. They live like dogs. There has to be something more to be done. They have to be made to rise up against this oppression."

"Tuck, these people wont' fight," Robin said, it was the same conversation every time. "They're broken, miserable, and barely able to keep themselves alive. We have to be their guardians, their soldiers, and their voices. No, it is not enough, you are right, but it's all we can do for now...and that will have to do."

This was enough to placate the man, but Robin sensed a revolutionary in him, an instinct to fight that would not allow itself to be quelled forever. He would address it later, he could not afford the gang to be divided by morals; not when there was so much at stake.

"Allan, what are the rumours?" Robin asked.

"Word is that the Prince'll be here within two days. Wouldn't want t' be in the Sheriff's shoes when he asks where we are, eh?" Allan joked. "Would like t' see the look on his face though..."

"If the Prince is coming to Nottingham he'll have brought enough money with him to bribe the nobles support," Robin mused aloud, "He won't know the right roads to take through Sherwood, it's a perfect opportunity."

"We should split into groups and watch all the main roads," Tuck suggested. "Just because he's ignorant does not mean we should take him for a fool."

"Believe me I do not intend to," Robin growled. "And for whatever reason the Prince is coming to Nottingham you can bet it was not just to see me hang, nor was it for a friendly chat with his friend Vaysey. He's up to something."

"When isn't he?" Much sighed.

"We'll need eyes and ears in the castle until we know more. The Sheriff failed him once, he won't be so keen on failing him again. If there's a plan we need to know about it. We need to find it who's involved, when it'll happen, and where," Robin said.

"Hold on, not being funny or anything, but...how do we know there is a plan in the first place?" Allan asked.

"Do you think Prince John is going to let his brother off lightly? He failed to kill him once he's bound to have another way to take his brother's throne, you can count on it. Now," Robin said changing the subject, "Get these stowed away," he gestured towards the bundles of stolen goods, "and get yourselves rested. We're going to need all our strength in the days to come."

***

"_You lost them?! What do you mean you lost them?!_"

The inhuman roar was far beyond that of rage. A chair was thrown violently against the wall of the Great Hall. The three captains ducked just in time. The heavy piece of furniture dropped like a stone, clattering noisily against the stone floor. Guy paced the center of the room like a caged panther. His blue eyes burned with the light of hell fire and shadows revolved like the gates of madness in his dilated pupils; blurring his vision red.

His black coat was torn and unkempt, much like the rest of him, but he seemed oblivious to his current state. The captains tried to explain how their dogs had been attacked and two had seemingly discovered a false trail, because they would howl that the outlaws were in one location, but they simply were not there. How could they be faulted for this mistake? They would try again tomorrow, but they had lost them again, and there was nothing to be done about that.

This was the wrong answer to give. Guy shouted to the two soldiers standing by the door. "Take them out to the courtyard and have them executed!"

The soldiers hesitated at first, "Yes, my lord....what shall I charge them with?"

"Failure to carry out orders, what else?!" Guy screamed. He was heedless to the captains' pleadings. They were dragged out of the hall unceremoniously. Guy was left standing in the hall, his chest heaving in great gasps as if he would spew fire like some fearsome dragon.

Behind him, the Sheriff applauded his performance from his chair at his desk. "Bravo, my boy, you're learning. Although, I would recommend you not kill all of my captains, we'll be running out of soldiers at this rate."

"Then I will use mercenaries," Guy said, "I will kill each and every soldier in this castle if they prove incapable of bringing back Robin Hood."

When Guy had been given the news that Robin Hood and his gang had escaped the castle he had gone into a fit of madness so deep many thought he had truly never regained his former sense of sanity. Even the Sheriff had let him be for the first week. Guy had sent out patrols and had combed Sherwood over a thousand times for a trace of the outlaw, but he had had no luck and when his anger could no longer be contained he had begun killing off those who had failed him. The soldiers, who at first, had found Guy's madness a source of frightening amusement, were now well and truly terrified. No one volunteered for missions anymore, not when death was surely quick to follow even the slightest of transgressions. The man killed at a whim and he did it with all the joy of a soulless demon.

The Sheriff was amused at his protege's development. Guy had finally learned that people were expendable, and what was more, he was going into his task with a thirst for blood that rivaled even the Sheriff's. Vaysey appreciated the fact that since Marian's death Guy had finally lost what had been holding him back all this time. His weaknesses had seemingly disappeared. He knew what his objective was and nothing was going to hinder him in achieving the destruction of his enemy. And yet, for all of this, the Sheriff was terrified that his creation would soon turn upon him and destroy him. No one controlled Guy now. He worked in his own system, under his own orders. True, he still turned to the Sheriff for guidance and advice, but he was no longer the willing servant. He let him live out of habit more than anything. One wrong move and Vaysey was not altogether certain if this devilish rage would soon turn upon him and exterminate him.

"Be that as it may," The Sheriff said, "there are other things to focus on. The Prince will be arriving in Nottingham soon, and we must prepare ourselves."

"Prepare ourselves for what?" Guy spat, "You will tell him of _your_ failure in the Holy Land. It was your incompetence which cost us that victory." It was his plans which had cost him Marian; cost him everything.

"Oh no, the Prince is not interested in the past, only the future," The Sheriff chuckled ominously, "I've already sent word out to the Black Knights. There are bigger things at stake than old grudges, I'm afraid. Although, having Robin's head on a spike would have made everything far sweeter."

"I will see him dead," Guy barked. He was not interested in politics. Revenge fueled him, it lived in him. It was his only reason he was living.

"In time," The Sheriff said, "Now you had better get going, if you intend to watch your captains lose their heads." He laughed mildly at his own joke, but in truth he wanted the appalling vision of his Master-At-Arms to depart.

Guy backed out of the hall slowly, moving like a lumbering wraith back into the darkness from which he had sprung from. The door opened slowly and shut with a shuddering bang which caused even Vaysey to jump.

The lackluster evening glow was dim in comparison to the inner light burning in the back of Guy's mind. He had had no rest for days. He could feel the blood pounding in every vein in his body. His every nerve was on end and even the slightest touch felt like fire against his skin. He was burning alive.

Why couldn't Robin Hood die?! Why couldn't the man die like any other man? His escapes were inconceivable and his luck was never ending. If he could only see Robin die he was certain he could live the rest of his life in far better conditions than he was now. But the man would not die. He would haunt him like a living ghost until he perished.

Guy was certain his time was coming. He welcomed it with open arms. He prayed for the darkness to come quickly and claim him. He was ready. Above all things he was tired with life. So he could not sleep and be tormented with an endless mockery of a half death.

Guy found himself wandering down a familiar corridor of the castle. He paused in his hurried footsteps to assess his current location. He stood facing a simple doorway. His hand reached out to grasp the metal of the door handle. He knew the shape and the feel of the metal fixture. He had clutched it in his hand often before he would contemplated opening the door...Marian's door.

He stood outside, forehead pressed against the wooden door; knuckles turning white as he gripped the handle with straining force. The door was pushed open completely by accident. Guy stumbled into the dark room. It was musty, not having been lived in for nearly a year.

Guy shut the door behind him. He stood alone in the gray light of the room. There was a trunk lying right at the foot of the bed. He walked over to it, removing his gloves so that his fingers might skim the surface of the chest of drawers, and the chair, and the table. Marian's hands had skimmed these surfaces.

He knelt by the little trunk and lifted it cautiously. Two simple linen gowns were folded neatly inside of the trunk. A blue flowered dress, the one he had given her once upon a time, and a green dress as clear as a summer meadow. His hands trembled as he plucked the green dress from the trunk. The fabric was soft and yielding; cool to the touch and soothing.

He brought the dress close, holding it against his chest, hugging it. Marian's scent was still clinging to the clothing, or perhaps he had only imagined it. He closed his eyes, holding the dress as if he was holding the woman. The rapid pounding of his heart slowed, and the fire in his blood calmed and cooled.

A sense of peace washed over him for a moment. A part of Marian still lingered in the castle.

_Stay and make this place bearable._

He sat upon the edge of the bed, still holding the green dress. He stretched out atop the quilts, the dress pressed against him and half draped over him like a blanket. He did not know when sleep came to claim him, all he knew was blissful rest and blackness.

He dreamed of her, but it was not a nightmare. He dreamed he slept on while she held him tight in her arms. Her hands stroked his back and smoothed back the hair from his brow. She whispered to him from time to time; how much she loved him, how much she needed him. And he could feel her against him as he was held and cradled in her arms.

His mind felt clouded. Somehow he knew this was a dream and that was what made it all bearable. He clung to her; God, he swore he could truly feel her! He tried to tell her how much he loved her, how sorry he was, how he wished he could be with her, that it was agony being without her. He couldn't speak, his mouth refused to move, but with each thought he could feel Marian's arms tighten about him and he knew she understood his silent pain. Safe, he tried to reassure her, he was safe here. For now he was not hurting. This relaxed her and she gave him the smallest of kisses. Dreams were such cruel tricks, but Guy was beginning to realize, they were the only source of comfort he had left in the world. He accepted this trick of his own mind and allowed himself to drift in the darkness. At least here, Marian was still alive.

***

She did not just cry out, she screamed! The horrible sound tearing free from her throat. Blankets tangled with limbs as she thrashed out. Grief and an agony, the likes of which she had never known, coursed through her body. She was on fire! No, she was being doused with cold water. Her heart felt as if it would burst into flame...or break into a thousand shattered pieces. She wailed and cried out as if she was being tortured.

"Marian!"

Psyche shook the screaming woman into wakefulness. "Marian?!"

Marian came awake with a gasp. Sweat clung to her forehead and her hands were wrapped like claws about the blankets. She blinked into the darkness. Psyche quickly lit the candle atop the small table, casting shadow glows around the cabin. Marian tried to speak, but Psyche shushed her. "Don't panic," she urged, "it was a nightmare."

Psyche drew forth her flask and handed it to Marian. She drank from it greedily. Psyche had been right, the cool tea did have an immediate calming affect on her addled mind. She sat upright at the edge of her cot, concentrating on returning her breathing to normal, occasionally taking sips from the flask. Psyche let her be for a time before she asked her what she had dreamt of.

This was not the Marian Psyche and come to befriend. This was a disheveled woman with a face of a lifetime's heartbreak. The strong woman she knew quivered and gasped for air as she tried to fight down the last of her tears. She looked over at Psyche, doing her best to smile. She let out a ragged laugh, "You must be rubbing off on me. Now I'm starting dream as well."

Psyche smiled, but did not laugh. Marian's smile died as well. "Is this how it feels?" she whispered, "Is this how it feels when you dream? All of this...agony?" A hand was against her heart.

"It's never my own," Psyche said softly, "It's always another's."

Marian shuddered. "It's not fair."

"What?"

"I've had dreams before...and nightmare. I dream of Robin and home almost every night, but I've never _felt_ before," Marian blushed in the darkness, ashamed of the whine in her voice.

"You were not thinking of Robin tonight, then?" Psyche asked.

Marian shook her head. "It was Guy," she quietly admitted as a chill ran up her spine. "And I want never to have such a dream again! All I could hear was him telling me how he was sorry, how he missed me, how...over and over again! I just wanted him to stop. I tried to tell him to stop, that it was my fault too! But, Psyche, I couldn't speak. I couldn't tell him anything, and he just went on crying...I've never seen him cry..."

"When you return home surely there will be some reconciliation? Perhaps that is why you dreamed of him," Psyche suggested.

"No. No, I want never to see him again," Marian shook her head, "It is better he continue to think that I am dead. That way we can never hurt one another again. He was my friend, Psyche. For all that he had ever done I did care for him...it is not fair for me to hurt him. Better for him to think I am still dead than alive and with Robin."

A wild pounding came from outside the cabin door. Psyche rose from her cot and went to open the door. Gabrielle stood outside a beaming smile upon her face, lighting up the dark room. "You should come up on deck with the others. There's something you should see."

"Give us a moment, Gabrielle," Psyche said, urging the young girl to run on ahead, which she did gladly.

Psyche went back to Marian, who had already risen. She pulled a cloak about herself. She was still sniffling, but the tears had vanished from her eyes. "I'm all right now. Think it's this blasted ship. As long as I live, Psyche, I will never leave England again."

Psyche laughed as she followed her friend out the door. Neither of them realized that morning had already arrived, it was so cramped and dark in that cabin. Psyche couldn't have agreed more with Marian. The ocean was no different than the desert; one was drowned in sand the other with water, but it was all barren and all suffocating.

They made their way up onto the deck. Will, Djaq, Gabrielle and the others were already there. There was a cloud bank on the horizon but the clouds were swiftly flying away, but a gray mass still remained in everyone's line of vision. A general cry went up from the sailors. Land.

Djaq sought for Will's hand. He clutched it in hers, there was a shine of tears in the young man's eyes and he did nothing to hide them. Marian dropped her cloak as she walked over to the railing. She leaned out, her arms shakily clinging to the wooden rail. She stretched outwards, as if hoping that by leaning forward she might fall and touch upon that distant mark of land.

Psyche was at her side. She rested casually against the ships' rail. Her ancient eyes gazed first upon Marian's face and then out across the sea. "England," she said, staring at the land with a feeling of mixed anticipation and dread. A stab of pain shot through her, but as soon as it came upon her it had left her.

"Home," Marian said as a smile as bright as the morning sun spread beams of light across her face.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you all are still reading this story and that you haven't given up on it yet. **

**What is Marian going to do now that she's back in England? When will she be reunited with Robin again? And what is going to happen when Psyche meets up with the man who has been haunting her all this time? **

**Lots still to cover! Do drop a review!  
**


	17. A Cage of Trees

XVII

A Cage of Trees

Psyche always marvelled at forests and woodlands. How a great expanse of life could sweep across an otherwise barren and flat land—it was a miracle. The desert was in her blood and it ran through her veins like so much molten metal; she could not fathom a world comprised of life giving blues and greens. It was as if she had stepped into another world. She certainly had never been to England before. She wondered why; she had traversed half of Christendom, battled through the deserts of her homeland, and explored the East countless times so that she laughed when people spoke of its endless mysteries. But here was a true mystery. She found she liked this England immediately. Rain was falling from the sky in mists. Her heavy black clothes were beginning to become damp with the water, but Psyche did not mind. Rain was always a joyous thing.

She drove her cart on down the well worn dirt roads. Her hood was thrown back to allow the rain to pelt her black hair and face. Droplets of water dripped down the skin of her neck. She licked her lips from time to time, the water tasted sweet. The fog provided slow goings, but Psyche did not mind. She watched as the others rode their carts with hoods and cloaks firmly wrapped tight about them. For once, Psyche's unusual outfit was no longer so very strange. She smiled at the sight of the others' discomfort. She could not imagine what there was to be so annoyed with or uncomfortable about. How many days did they pray for rain or an oasis so that they might quench their thirst with water? Now it was falling every day in overwhelming abundance! They should be dancing in the middle of the road with excitement, but instead they chose to bow their heads and wish the rain away. Well, Psyche prayed for the rain to stay, and it would too because, if she had so much power as everyone claimed she had, the rain would obey her.

"You're going to catch your death if you stay out here much longer," Marian remarked, poking her head out of the cart.

"Then I shall die the happiest of women," Psyche retorted, tossing her mane of hair about wildly, letting the water fly around in all directions. "Does it rain like this often?"

"Oh yes, more than you can imagine," Marian sighed.

"How wonderful," Psyche said. There must be more water in these skies than in all the oceans combined. What a strange thought, indeed.

"Let me know when you want me to take over," Marian said as she made her way back into the warmth and dryness of the cart.

Psyche gave a grunt of acknowledgement, but she would not want anyone taking this spot from her for some time, at least until the rain let up. They had only just disembarked from their ship two days ago. Marian had only recently told them that they were close. She had seemed nervous and pale as she had given them the news. Psyche found she could not contain a mounting excitement. She kept it to herself, she was not some starry eyed child on her first outing. She was a seasoned traveler, and yet her heart could not be silence or stilled. With each turn of the wheels and with each hoof print into the muddy soil she was coming closer. Closer to what she did not know.

Her dreams were becoming increasingly vivid at times she swore she could make out the man's entire frame. What if Marian had been right, and she was to be her guide to finding this unfortunate man? If he was in Nottingham could she even bear to come face to face with him? Secretly she thought she could, but the idea of truly seeing him burned her like the hottest fire. Then there was the fear...if this man existed, then what did this have to say for her dreams? She had come to believe that for so long seers were only actors and prescient visions were only stage tricks to entertain a gullible audience or a thrill seeking patron. Magic did not exist in the world and women had been killed for merely playing the part in most cases. If her dreams were proven real...what then?

"Marian?" Psyche called.

"Yes?"

"I think you had better take over..." she said; for she was beginning to feel strangely ill.

"Something wrong?" Marian asked as she emerged from the cart to crawl her way up onto the driver's bench.

"Headache...nothing serious," Psyche said.

"Told you you would make yourself ill sitting out in the rain all day," Marian chortled as she took the reigns out of Psyche's hands.

"It is not the rain."

"Did you see something?" Marian asked in all seriousness.

"Why must everyone insist upon asking if I've had visions? You of all people should know Marian, there is no truth in them." But Marian gave her a stern eyed stare. Those looks always managed to throw Psyche. How could one manage to look so threatening and yet at the same time so genuinely innocent? Psyche knew this was one of Marian's many little looks she used in order to get information out of people. She doubted the woman did it consciously anymore. Psyche wavered under the bright eyed stare. She knew she was not the first for her pride to shatter under that woman's influence. If she had not become such a dear friend to her, Psyche would have thrown her from the cart.

"We're getting closer," Psyche sighed.

"I could have told you that. We've been in Nottinghamshire for the better half of the day as it is." She said this with all the excitement of a young child.

"There is something more. I don't know what it is. I can't--" she shook her head, not able to identify now what it was she wanted to confide in Marian in the first place.

Marian didn't need an explanation though. She was selfishly looking forward to being right when they finally came upon the man Psyche had long been seeing in her visions. She hoped the man would prove true. Maybe Psyche would even stay in England because of it. While Marian was thrilled to be back home she was almost saddened that her travels had come to an end. She had seen much of the world and knew this was privilege few ever experienced. The freedom she had gained while traveling with the Players would soon be over. She would have to take up her duties as Robin's wife. Oh, Robin! Her heart pounded at the very thought of him. She had missed him so. She wanted him with her more than anything in the world, yes, perhaps more so than this independence. But if Psyche did decided to stay in England with her, than part of this freedom might stay as well. Psyche had become her closest friend and she was certain this feeling was mutual. There was a bond between them that could not be explained, Marian could not bear losing such a friend.

A black glove descended upon her shoulder. Marian glanced over to see Psyche shooting her a knowing look, a smirk tugging the corners of her lips. Psyche had taken to giving these small gestures of touch from time to time, but only to Marian. They never lasted long. Even with the gloves protecting her hands, Psyche could not handle such contact for more than a few seconds. Psyche moved her hand away as soon as she got Marian's attention. "You'll see him soon enough," she said.

"How did you know I was thinking of Robin?" Marian snorted.

"I am all seeing and all knowing am I not?" Psyche retorted with a raise of her eyebrow. She laughed. "Besides you already told me he lives in these woods. So where is he? Does he not come out to rob unsuspecting travellers such as ourselves? I am quite disappointed we have not been subject to an ambush lately."

"Don't get your hopes up too much, Psyche. Robin may be reckless, but he knows better than to attack a band so large as us," Marian remarked. At least she hoped so. She tugged her hood up and over her head as the rain pounded down harder.

***

Joshua scouted on ahead of the rest of the band, nimble and light on his feet, he was the perfect spy to be sent ahead to watch out for signs of trouble down the road. So far there was nothing to these forest paths which gave away any scent of danger. Joshua was not frightened of the newness of the landscape. He had run through deserts before, where the wind washes away all footprints. At least here, in this muddy forest, if he ever found himself lost he could easily follow his prints back to the rest of the band. Only a fool could find himself scattered in the woods, Joshua reflected.

He leapt over a fallen log; placing his hands upon the wood he shot himself over it, cartwheeling and tumbling in the air to land on his two feet. He laughed, impressed with himself. He kicked out at the log as if it was a fallen enemy. As he turned to devote himself back to his task at hand a figure darted from among the trees.

Joshua halted his movements immediately. Quietly he reached for the knife he kept sheathed at his side. Before he could draw it out he was tackled to the floor. Joshua did not think, he kicked out with both feet, rocketing himself a little further out of the clutches of his attacker. "Whoa there, don't struggle, boy!"

He jabbed the man in the ribs with his elbow and squirmed out of the man's grasp. Kicking him backwards he leapt to his feet, knife in hand. He spat, cursing in Hebrew as his attacker regained his breath. The man held out his hands to show he was unarmed. "Easy, easy..." he tried to calm Joshua.

"What do you want?" Joshua asked, holding the knife out towards the man. "I warn you I am not alone!"

"I know, neither am I," the man said, "all I wanted was a little information. Just put that knife away, boy and we'll start over."

Joshua was not about to sheath his weapon. He had met many thieves in his day, he had even been taught by the Prince of Thieves. He recognized another man of the trade. The clever glint in the man's green eyes gave away the little lie behind his words. He held his hands out in submission, but they were far apart from each other, suggesting that he would still be in a position to pin him down should he try to fight him. A quiver of arrows was strapped to his back along with a bow. He could shoot him anytime, Joshua would not hold the advantage for long. No, Joshua would not put down his weapon.

"Ganav." Joshua said. "You think I am a fool?"

"I assure you I'm not here to rob you...at least not until you tell me who you are," the man said with a cheeky grin.

Joshua blinked. He understood his Hebrew? His knife lowered only slightly. "My name is Joshua," he said, "I am an acrobat for the Players of Dionysus. It is they who follow me."

"Players?" The man laughed at that, "is that all? Put the knife away, Joshua you are in no danger from me."

"Tell me who you are and I'll put the knife away," Joshua retorted, jabbing the air.

"My name is Robin Hood."

This elicited another curse from the boy, but he did as he was told and sheathed the knife. "Robin Hood? Truly?"

"My reputation proceeds me?"

"We have been searching for you!" Joshua cried. "We bring a message from your King!"

"A message?" All signs of amusement left the man, "What kind of a message?"

"Come with me back to the others. They will explain it to you!" Joshua waved his hand indicating that he should follow him. Robin went racing after the boy. He had been tracking the bands movements for the better half of the day. Their presence within Sherwood had been most unusual and he had sent the gang out to surround them and keep a watch on them. As soon as scouts had been sent ahead, Robin went to see what the men were looking for. In times such as these, one could never be certain if a roving band of players were exactly who they claimed to be. But a message from King Richard changed everything. Was he returning home? Had he some mission, some task, prepared for him? Why entrust such a thing into the hands of traveling folk?

It did not take them long until they back tracked far enough to catch up with the rest of the band. They cut a fine trail through the woods, two single file lines which spiralled off a fair distance. Joshua shouted to the others in a language Robin did not recognize. He picked out a few words of Hebrew and Arabic, but this language seemed to be a mix of the two, these people seemed to be a race all of their own.

An old woman slowed her cart to a halt and the others followed her example. The ancient looking woman climbed down, using her walking stick to steady herself on the ground before she hobbled over to Joshua. They conversed for a moment, but as soon as Joshua pointed to Robin the woman stopped, blinking up at the man in utter surprise. She brushed passed Joshua to walk over towards the stranger. "So," she said in heavily accented English, "this is the Robin Hood I have heard so much about. I must confess," the elderly woman said with a cat-like grin, "I thought you would be bigger." She gave a cackling laugh at her own joke.

"I am sorry to disappoint, my lady," Robin said with a courteous bow. "This must have been quite a journey for you. I do not think you are from these parts," he said with a mocking smile.

"We carried precious cargo," the woman said.

"So I have heard. Joshua told me of a message from my King?" Robin tried not to sound impatient, but he was never the most patient of men.

"Aye, we do come with a message, but first you must come with me,"

"May I signal to my men, my lady? They need to know that I am all right and that you are not about to kidnap me," Robin said.

The woman nodded her consent. Robin placed two fingers in his mouth and blew a shrieking whistle. A gang of men appeared out of the trees and headed cautiously down towards the line of wagons. "It's all right," Robin called to them, "these are friends. They have a message from King Richard!"

"God be praised!" Much shouted as he ran down towards them, "He's coming home!"

"Don't get your hopes up," Allan snorted, "a second ago you said you were positive these were Prince John's men."

"Ignore them, my lady," Robin said, silencing the squabbling pair with a severe look. "Show us what you have."

***

"We've stopped," Marian remarked to Psyche. "What's going on? Did something happen?"

Psyche sat forward, trying to see if there was some obstacle baring their way through the forest. "I do not know. Let's find Mariel and see what that old crone is up to now."

Psyche and Marian removed themselves from the wagon and went in search of the leader of the players. Other people were muttering to themselves, asking similar questions. A few joyful shouts cut through the rabble.

"Robin?! Robin is that you?!"

"Will? Djaq! God in heaven, I thought I'd never see you again!"

Marian froze in mid step. Her hands raised upwards, clutching her hood. Psyche stopped as well. A young man had come running through the line of wagons to embrace his old friends. She stared at the man for a time. He was scrawny and agile, the perfect build for life in the forest. She could see a jovial glint in the man's eyes and a kind gap-toothed grin which she supposed could be taken as charming. He seemed a decent man. Psyche looked over at Marian. Her eyes were wide as she drank in the man's image. Tears swam in her eyes as she gazed over at him and the rest of the gang as they were reunited with their long lost friends.

"Go to him," Psyche said.

Marian looked over at Psyche, silently telling her she was not sure she had the courage. Psyche merely gripped her by the shoulders and turned her body to face the others and gave her a small shove forward. Marian laughed lightly at her actions, feeling lighter than air as she walked, as if in a trance, over to her husband.

Djaq saw Marian approach out of the corner of her eye. "Robin," she said hastily, not having any time at all to explain, "there is something else. We...we didn't come alone."

"I can see that," Robin laughed, gesturing around them, "Fine way to travel, hm?"

"That is not what she means," Will said, "Robin it's..."

"Ghost!" Much screamed, pointing at the hooded image of Marian, "Lord protect us, it's a ghost!"

Allan and Little John cursed and took several steps backwards to avoid Marian. She smiled and shook her head at all of them. "Get a grip," she laughed, "I'm most certainly not a ghost."

Robin turned around very slowly. He knew that voice; that dear and sweet voice. But it belonged to a dead woman. He found himself staring into the bright eyes of a ghost. The ghost smiled so wide it could have cracked her face from end to end. Tears tracked down her face as she threw back her hood. Brown curls bounced around her shoulders, the rain darkening them to a black shadow. Her pale skin was darker from the months she had spent in the desert, but it had the same smoothness. Was he going mad?

"Hello, Robin," was all the ghost could manage to say as tears overwhelmed her.

Robin staggered forward, an arm outstretched to touch her. His hands brushed upon the fabric of her cloak and he gave a startled cry and pulled away. He whispered her name like a man lost. Marian hushed him and took his hand in hers and guided it to her chest so that he could feel her very real heartbeat. Robin was silent for a moment before a terrifying and joyful shout broke from his throat. He swept the woman off of her feet with the force of his embrace. He went on screaming her name, "Marian! Marian!" And Marian held him, laughing and crying.

Psyche watched the lovers reunite from a fair distance. Her heart felt like lead in her chest. She knew this day would come, but she did not know it would hurt. She knew in the instant that the two locked eyes with one another that she had lost her. She was home, with her husband, and she would soon forget her time spent with her, and with the rest of the band. Psyche hung her head, her soft brown eyes darkening. She turned to trudge back to her wagon alone.

"Psyche!" Marian called.

She raised her head and turned about. Marian was running over to her, pulling Robin along. "Robin, this is the woman who is responsible for bringing me home. Psyche, this is Robin."

"I do not know what to say..." Robin said incredulously.

"I think that might be a first for you," Psyche said in her cryptic voice.

Robin was taken aback, but Marian was laughing, "She's highly astute...and she's toying with you." She winked at Psyche.

"Thank you," Robin said to her, holding out his hand to shake hers.

Psyche did not move to take his hand. Robin seemed confused by her actions. Psyche merely nodded coldly at him, "I'll leave you two alone, you deserve time together," and she walked away.

She was not so far out of earshot that she could not hear Robin and Marian remarking to one another:

"That is the woman you said was your greatest friend?" Robin asked her, surprised.

"She takes getting used to. Don't worry, I'm sure in time she'll see you as a friend," Marian said. "I should help the others set up camp for the night."

Robin laughed, "We'll take them over to a clearing near our camp, but you are staying with me tonight." He kissed her, holding her tightly.

Marian laughed, "You were thinking otherwise?" She was finally home.

Psyche sighed quietly. She was once again alone.

* * *

**A/N: Now that this chapter is finished I can finally sleep! XD I've been dying to get the two parts of this story together and not that Psyche and Marian are at least united with Robin's gang things are going to start taking off. Yes, that means Psyche's meeting with Guy is FINALLY going to happen. Sooner than you think. I hope you are still enjoying this story! More to come soon! **


	18. Things in Motion

XVIII

Things in Motion

Psyche found she could not sleep. She kicked at the thin layer of sheets and sat up, legs dangling over the edge of he bed. She held her head in her hands. Usually sleep came easily, even though her dreams brought her nothing but grief and trouble. Tonight it was proving elusive. It was too quiet, Psyche decided. For the past three months she had grown accustomed to Marian's voice, yammering away about something or another until Psyche had had to snap at her, or throw a pillow at her to get her to stop.

Psyche smiled a little, who would have ever guessed she would have grown so attached to that proud and bossy noblewoman? The smile faded as she took stock of her surroundings now. It was all quiet and still, just the way her little wagon had always been before. She was fond of the dark and of the quiet, it comprised of her world: isolated and cold. A sanctuary, her own pedestal, which was fitting. She was not like the other members of the band. She had always been raised just a bit apart; kept under Mariel's wing. She had even been gifted with an inhuman name. She could look through a human, but would always lack the ability to feel one. Touch was a thing to be feared and this phobia had ruled her life and Mariel had done nothing to banish it, she had encouraged it. Empath, Mariel had called her, she could feel far more deeply than that of skin upon skin.

As a child she had not been so very different. She had wanted comfort and understanding, but at the same time the physical idea of an embrace or a touch on the hand prevented her from seeking it out. Mariel tried to show her the importance of her position; of her power, but she had nothing but resentment towards it. It was false, it was all false; just an excuse to place her in the light of the stage, to earn money, to earn respect. Now at last she had made a friend, something she could have claimed as her own, but that too was false.

The door to the wagon opened with a small creak and Psyche lifted her head with the sharpness of a hawk. "What do you want?" She barked, thinking it must either be Joshua, Gabrielle, or Mariel lurking about so late at night.

"It's only me."

"Marian?" Psyche gasped, "What are you doing here?" She rose to her feet to approach the woman who was quietly shutting the door behind her. "Shouldn't you be with Robin?"

"I was with Robin," Marian said, "but I...I couldn't sleep. Think we were having similar problems," she laughed.

"Speak for yourself," Psyche snorted, "You merely woke me."

"Can't you at least pretend to be happy for me?" Marian said accusingly, her arms crossed. She looked away from the woman. "I saw how you looked at Robin. You're my friend, Psyche, can't at least be happy for me?"

"Why do you need me to be happy?" Psyche said, "Are you unhappy? You can not blame me for your discontent."

"Of course I'm happy! I'm home, I have my husband back! I have all the reason in the world to be happy."

"Is this how you really are, Marian?" Psyche said in a low voice, "Whining your guilt to those you walk away from, asking them to be happy for you so you can feel a little better about yourself? Yes, Marian, I am happy for you. You're my friend and you've been given your life back, of course I am happy for you! But do not expect me to leap for joy. Your life is here, in England. I will leave tomorrow, or the next day and we will never see each other again. Do not expect me to be happy for that!"

"You blame me for that?" Marian said.

"I want to," Psyche said. "But I know that is not fair."

"I don't know why I came here..." Marian sighed after a time as the anger in her abated, "You looked so cold today, I knew something was wrong. I had to be sure you did not...hate me."

"I am not the one you should be having this conversation with," Psyche said, her voice growing harsh as a line of fire flashed inside her skull. She placed a hand to the side of her head.

"Oh that's mature, Psyche. Who should I be having this conversation with then?" Marian laughed sarcastically.

"You're never going to be happy if you avoid it. The guilt will eat away at you until it destroys you. He might hate you for it, but you have to take that chance." Psyche spoke hurriedly, as if unaware of the words she was saying. The moment they left her lips she seemed shocked with herself, like a woman falling out of a dream.

"How dare you."

"Marian...I..."

"You know nothing about my life aside from the stories I have told you! You weren't there. You can have no idea of what I have suffered."

"I didn't mean to say that...I don't know how--"

"Good night, Psyche." Marian strode from the wagon, the wooden door slamming shut behind her.

Psyche stood alone, trembling. What had come over her? What had possessed her to say such things to her? They had come so naturally, the most common observation; like looking through a mirror and seeing images reflected back at her. Except they were not just astute observations, she had seen possibilities. She shook her head. She could not read a person's soul and divine their future, it was not possible...it was not possible.

***

When Robin awoke he very nearly dismissed the previous day's events as those of a dream, but when he saw the sleeping form of Marian beside him the reality of the moment crashed down around him. Shakily, he placed a hand upon her cheek, pushing back her hair and feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. His eyes welled with tears and he let them fall, unashamed.

Marian stirred at his touch, blinking awake as she rolled over to find herself looking up at her husband. "Oh no," she whispered, her voice rasping as it struggled to find itself in the early morning, "we can't have this."

She raised herself up so that she was leaning upon her arm, and caught Robin's lips in a kiss. "Are you real?" he asked her, "or am I dreaming?"

"I am real, Robin," Marian said with a smile. "I am not sure what else I could possible do to convince you of it."

"Forgive me," Robin said.

Marian kissed him again, "No need to apologize."

Robin rose from the bunk, "We should see how your new friends are fairing." He held out his hand to help Marian down.

Marian agreed, although she had to swallow her trepidation on seeing Psyche again. She had not meant to snap at her as she had done the night before, but, truly, what else could she have done when Psyche had done nothing but goad her on. Marian and Robin left the still of the camp to seek out the Players. The wagons were settled in a circle, taking up much of the clearing. Fire pits had long been doused and the ashes were still relatively fresh. A few of the Players had woken and were busy gathering up materials and cleaning the camp grounds. Marian looked about, but Psyche was not among the early risers.

Mariel; however, was, and Marian waved at her. The old woman smiled at the couple and walked over to them, her gnarled walking stick brushing the dew off of the grass beneath her. "Well now, my dear, this is a pretty sight for a morning."

"Good morning, Mariel," Marian smiled.

"Come to see how we were making do with our camp, were we? That's very kind of you, my dear. And no need to thank us again, Robin," Mariel said holding up her hand to stop the man from speaking.

"How did you--"

Marian shook her head at Robin, telling him it was best if he did not ask the old woman how she knew what she knew. Marian had learned long ago never to question a statement from any of the Players, especially Psyche or Mariel. "You don't plan on leaving today do you?" Marian asked as they followed Mariel back to her wagon.

"Not yet. Quite a lot that can be done around here, plenty of towns and cities I'm certain would be willing to put up a coin or two to see a show," Mariel winked back at the two.

"So you'll be staying in Nottingham?"

"Aye, for a time. Now, it seems, Marian, we have been lax in our duties. Forgive your wife, Robin, in the excitement of your reunion she has forgotten to give you your King's message." Mariel grinned as she led the two inside the wagon.

"I believe I can easily forgive her," Robin joked. "Tell me what the King said."

"It is not so much what he has said," Marian began, "Robin you had best sit down. During our journey to England we made camp just outside of a town by the name of Annweiler. It was Will who incidentally came upon a castle which overlooked the town. King Richard is being held in one of the towers while the terms of a ransom are being discussed. Prince John is hoping to extend the discussion of a ransom for as long as possible...plausibly until he himself is in a position to discredit the King's right to rule."

Robin slumped back in his seat. "My men and I can take a ship out of England tonight..."

"No, Robin," Marian cut off his plan before it could be properly formed, "Don't entertain yourself with thoughts of a rescue. Will, Djaq, and I already tried. It's heavily fortified, we would need a small army to storm it and get the King out."

"So, you have told me my King is being held for ransom in a foreign land and I can do nothing but wait for his brother to release him?!" Robin could not help the hopeless shout which emerged.

"Pardon an old woman's advice, but it sounds as if you require someone to sabotage the ransom talks." Mariel glanced at the distressed pair with calm eyes.

"And how do you propose we do that? The Sheriff has the castle so heavily guarded none of us dare attempt to break in and with the arrival of Prince John it would be suicide to send a spy into Nottingham," Robin sighed.

"Mariel," Marian turned to the woman, a clever gleam in her eye, "Tell me you are not attempt to suggest what I think you are."

"Whatever would that be, my dear?"

"The Players have performed in castles and before an assembly of nobles before?" Marian asked.

"We have indeed, on several occasions."

"Then it stands to reason that a troop of performers would be able to gain access to the castle without arousing suspicion." A beaming smile was beginning to spread across Marian's face.

"And no one would notice a few extra stage hands wandering the castle halls either," Robin added, beginning to catch on. His face fell, "No...no I can't ask you or your people to do that for us. You would be placing all your lives in danger."

"I never lend my assistance to anyone I do not find worth the risk," Mariel snapped severely. "It is a necessary danger."

"I do not understand."

"Robin, you had better inform your men of this news, hm? Marian and I need to have a little chat; just us two." Mariel took a seat upon her little chair, still clutching her walking stick.

Marian turned to say good bye to Robin. He gave her a kiss, holding her tight against as if believing that every parting could well be their last again. He left to hurry back to his camp and wake the rest of the gang to tell them of the news and of Mariel's plan. Once he was gone, Marian turned to the elderly matriarch. "What exactly are you playing at?"

"My dear child," Mariel smiled kindly at the younger woman as she leaned back comfortably, "there is so much you do not know about us. I had hoped that your time with Psyche would have opened your eyes, but I fear we've come to an impasse."

"Psyche? She and I became friends. Why? Has she told you of the fight we had last night?" Marian snapped.

"Oh no, no I knew that was a long time in coming before you did," Mariel said.

"You are starting to sound as cryptic as Psyche," Marian scoffed.

"A difficult woman, Psyche. You should not be so quick to judge her as you do. She comes from a powerful family, far more powerful than I'm afraid you can understand. Do you know her mother was a great seer?"

"Psyche told me her mother died in childbirth...besides Psyche does not believe in magic," Marian shifted uncomfortable before Mariel's constant and unflinching stare.

"Her mother did indeed die. Rest assured, she knew what would happen to her that day. Some people have such fated moments in life. Much in your coming to us, Marian. Life is a series of events, each one must be played out till it's end. In my accepting your offer to help you and your husband I am merely looking after my own people. You must try to understand that I know what is best in situations like these."

"You can see the future," Marian whispered. "What is going to happen?! Will the King return safely? Will--"

"That is your way, Marian, always asking questions never wanting to find out for yourself. Yes, I could tell you what would happen...instances...events, but it would be like describing a painting which you could never see. Let it happen as it will, that is why I said I would help you," Mariel said.

"You...and Psyche—both of you are impossible!" Marian huffed, giving up learning anything for either of them.

"So we have both been told," Mariel laughed. "You had better rejoin your husband and his friends. We can meet later to settle our deal."

Marian walked quietly towards the door of the wagon. Suddenly, she paused, "You said Psyche came from a powerful family. She's prescient...her mother was as well, and you are...Mariel...you are not--"

Mariel hushed her, "You are an astute young woman. I will admit I was counting on your ability of observation to guide Psyche into seeing what she refuses to believe, but yes, she is my granddaughter."

"Does Psyche--"

"No she does not know and you will not be the one to tell her," Mariel said hurriedly. "Now go."

"Mariel you can not--"

"I said go now, my dear." And that was final.

***

I hate him, Psyche thought as she writhed about in the throes of a dream, I hate him with all of my soul. She felt all of the familiar agonies which went along with these visions. It could hardly be called any form of rest. Whenever she shut her eyes to sleep it was as if she was walking into an open door into another room. Her consciousness stayed with her. She was surely moving and thinking as one would while awake, but she knew herself to be asleep on her cot.

The man was there and she could not help, but direct her outrage and frustration at him. Her anger must have proven tangible for he turned as if to look at her. The hatred feel then. This was how Psyche knew the man must be an image of her own subconscious. While others stared into her to find answers to their own hearts and selfish souls this man seemed to look at her. It was the gaze of one who understood enough about his own fate that he need not seek out answers from a false fortune teller. And he appeared to not have the nature of curiosity to pry into her own abilities and her own unusual qualities. He looked at her like she was human. No one looked at her that way; he could not be real.

Psyche was positive the man was blind to her presence, that was best. She preferred for him not to take notice of her, it was too painful. Keeping this man's nightmares away was enough. She could feel the dream fading into peaceful blackness at last. She sighed, the man had already disappeared from sight; she must be waking up. She turned as if to walk out of a room when she found herself confronted with the man once more. His eyes were harsh and sparking with violence. He screamed at her as one would shout at an object one did not recognize and was terrified off. "Leave me alone!"

Psyche gasped and came awake. She sat up slowly. She opened her mouth, her first instinct was to tell Marian of the dream she had had, but then she remembered that Marian was not there, and she quickly shut her mouth again. She did not know when she became aware of the knocking at her door. She groaned as the sound rattled her brain. "A moment!" She shouted impatiently.

Psyche rose to her feet and scuffled to the door, wrenching it open and greeting her morning guest with all the cheer of an executioner. This spiteful look was soon lost as she realized who had come to see her. "Mariel?" she questioned. "What is it?"

"Make yourself ready," Mariel said striding into the wagon, "We are going to Nottingham."

"What..."

Mariel took Psyche's velvet gloves from off of their space atop her small cabinet and took her black cloak in hand as well. She handed these to a stunned Psyche. "You are going to perform like the whole of your life depended upon it, which, fortunately, it does."

"Mariel, what scheme is this?"

"Listen to me, my dear, there are things about to happen which you have long tried to ignore. Since we can no longer wait for your stubbornness to yield, I have taken matters into my own hands. Now, make yourself ready!" Mariel said.

Psyche pulled on her gloves as she felt a chill race up her spine and the pounding in her heat intensify. She tied her cloak about her, nodding to Mariel. "I'm ready," she sighed, still not impressed by her leader's emotionally and cryptic motivational words.

"Good," Mariel grunted, "Help the others pack up camp. I want to be in Nottingham by this afternoon."

***

Guy started himself awake, which was odd considering he did not even remember finally falling asleep for the first time in days. He was sitting in his chair...he must not have even managed to make it to his bed. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes, blinking back the light filtering in through the window. What had he dreamt of last night? His head was pounding fit to split itself open as he fought to remember. It was there. Like all past dreams that he felt he could not remember, it was there...he just could not see it.

He staggered from his chair, picking up his coat from the floor. He pulled it on tiredly as he made his way for the door. He wrenched it open and made his way down the halls. He pushed open the doors leading into the Great Hall. The Sheriff along with a sizable guard, were there to greet him.

"God, Gisborne you look like death," Vaysey grimaced at the sight of the disheveled man.

Guy let the insult slide off of him. The Sheriff's remarks had ceased to bother him some time ago, he reckoned it was when the last of his sanity had been burned away by his grief. He merely stared at the man with unthinking eyes. The Sheriff sniffed, "Nothing to be done about it now. The Prince is due to arrive in a matter of hours now."

"The Prince?" He had completely forgotten about that matter.

"Yes, you misery addled mess!" Vaysey snapped, his temper flaring, "The Prince along with the council of the Black Knights are coming to Nottingham."

Guy seemed less than impress with this repeated piece of news. "Oh, and Gisborne," the Sheriff said, "A change of plans. It turns out that Robin will be a wanted guest while the Prince is here. You may continue your efforts to track that man down. But I warn you, if you fail me again I will execute you in Robin Hood's place!"

Guy smirked, the Sheriff had threatened him with death on several occasions, but he had never carried out a single one. He doubted very much that if he failed now the Sheriff would see fit to kill him, not that he would mind if he did execute him and have done with it. Guy merely nodded to the Sheriff. He would not rest until he killed Robin himself, orders or no.

Still, Guy had the strange feeling that something was coming. It was an eerie feeling, like a chill racing up and down his spine and a memory he was having trouble bringing to his mind's eye. His head had started to pound again so he shook the feeling away and did not make a further effort to analyze it. There was much to be done.

* * *

**A/N: I think all of you can guess on what the next chapter will finally bring? XD You've all been so very patient, it's about to pay off. **

**Also, Mariel's relationship to Psyche is not the only twist in this tale. There is so much more yet to come. Next chapter will be up soon! :)  
**


	19. Dreams Made Real

XIX

Dreams Made Real

Psyche could hear Joshua atop of the wagon making his usual announcement to the crowd as they passed into Nottingham Town. As Joshua performed his minor acrobatic tricks as he spoke to the crowds the people began to gather around, staring at the newcomers. They applauded and waved at them. It was always a great source of excitement when traveling shows came through the town and no one had seen a band of players quite like them before.

Psyche focused her energies on keeping a grip on the reigns of the horse pulling her wagon onward. She had her hood up and over her head, keeping her face hidden from view from the onlookers. It was her job to remain anonymous among the crowds. As a seer she was only as good as her mystery. Although it was hard to keep as calm as she normally was. Seven stowaways were hiding among the rest of the Players. If a guard or anyone should recognize them, it would be their heads up for the chopping block. Yet, as annoyed as she felt with the scheme she had called brainless, she would never have refused.

The wagons rolled into the town square, circling up in the proper formation. Psyche turned about and rapped on the door leading into her wagon as she pushed it open. Marian was there waiting for her, she too was clothed in black, a hood obscuring her face. "Let's go," Psyche said, leading her out the door to help the others set up the stage. Marian nodded and followed.

The two aided the others set up the stage. A few performers were already entertaining the crowd as the others labored to set up camp. Will and Djaq were helping to lift the large beams and get them into place. "Any sign of soldiers?" Robin asked as he came running over to Marian and Psyche.

"None yet, but even if there are they can't arrest us for performing," Marian said, trying to calm Robin.

"The Sheriff's been none to arrest people for less," Robin reminded her.

"Relax," Psyche warned, "Help the others and keep your head down. If you seem nervous I can tell you guards will become suspicious. If you see a soldier for God's sake act like a performer!"

There was a crowd steadily forming around where the stage was being set up and a few people had already placed some coins in the boxes being passed around by Gabrielle. Mariel approached Psyche as soon as the stage was completed. "You are going to perform for the crowd."

"What?" Psyche balked, "Gabrielle sings first and then Joshua usually performs after her."

"Well, things have changed," Mariel snapped.

"Mariel, don't act like a fool!" Psyche hissed, "These people burn women for acting like witches!"

"Thank the good Lord then, you do not act like one."

"Psyche, you have to go on," Marian said. "You are our key into the castle!"

"I don't understand..."

"If the Sheriff or the Prince have men out here in the crowd and they here you make predictions they'll report it back. They'll take us into the castle," Robin explained, "The Prince loves fortune tellers."

"But...I..."

"No excuses, my dear, make yourself ready." Mariel prodded her with the end of her walking stick.

"No, you don't understand," Psyche said, "I can't...I can't _see_. My head feels clouded."

"I thought you didn't believe in the supernatural?" Marian said, "Just fake it!"

They forced Psyche to make her way to the stage. Marian and Mariel remained hidden in the wings of the stage while Robin went to make sure they were still safe. Psyche pulled down on her hood as if to make sure she was still sufficiently covered. She sucked in breath as if she was drowning. Why now? Why should her mind chose to fail her now, when it mattered most? It was like a dull fog had swamped her senses she could see nothing through it. She shook her head. Marian had been right, what did that have to do with her performance. She was an actor, that was all.

She strode out onto the stage and made her own announcement to the startled crowd. "Who has come to seek my council?" She called. She stared out at the dumb faces of the audience as they beheld the imposing hooded figure, "I have traveled far and seen all the mysteries of the world. I can look into your soul and divine your future."

The people whispered and spoke among themselves. Psyche was far from unnerved at the reaction, she had received it several times before. "Ah, but I see that you doubt me? Doubt is such a common emotion to have in the face of the unknown. You," she pointed to a man, "you doubt you will be able to pay your taxes, but you needn't worry, I think your wares will sell within three days time. And you," she pointed to a little girl who was staring up at her, Psyche smiled, "don't worry, your mother will fix your doll for you." The little girl's eyes widened before she smiled widely at Psyche's prediction. "And...you," she pointed to a young woman, "you doubt your child will be born healthy? She will be."

The woman placed a hand over her still flat stomach. Her eyes stared up at Psyche, disbelief and awe in her gaze. Her husband placed an arm about his wife and pressed her close to his side. If the people doubted her skills as a seer, judging from the way they looked at her now, some of the doubt was begin to melt away. Psyche looked tired and small on the stage as she let her arm drop back down to her side. She had thought she was merely making accurate observations, guessing the obvious from the small details no one else bothered to see, but she felt drained, as if she had been tapping into some source from outside of her own senses.

A bolt of pain shot through her and she stumbled backwards, hands clasped on either side of her head. "Stop it," she whispered, "not now..."

Marian saw Psyche's distress and nearly bolted onto the stage to help her, but Mariel held her back. "She needs our help!" she hissed at the woman.

"She needs to learn," Mariel said, "If she does not see now she will be blind for the rest of her life!"

"You are killing yourself over a falsehood. That which you saw is not real!" Psyche said, "Stop...you are in pain, I suffer it as well, let me help you. Your grief and your guilt—you need to let go. You..." she raised her arm pointing outwards into the crowd, "you're forgiven."

Psyche opened her eyes, stunned to see her arm raised. She, along with the rest of the people, followed the line of her vision. Guy of Gisborne stared back at the woman. He had felt a cold chill descend upon him the moment she had sunk into her trance. He knew she was talking about him. He looked at her...she should not know such things. Anger blinded him momentarily. She had no right to claim she understood his pain, or that he was forgiven! But the moment those strange and seemingly ancient eyes held his gaze he could not shake the feeling that he knew this woman.

The cold blue eyes of the man seemed striking visible to Psyche, even from the short distance away. Psyche lowered her hand. It was impossible. Was she dreaming? No, she could not be, it was always silent and black in her dreams. Here, she could feel everything and see everything, she had to be awake. But the man...it was him. The eyes were those of the man she had seen every night in her dreams. How? How could he be real?!

She backed away from the sight of him. The very real, and horrifying sight of him. She ran from the stage, flying back and away from the crowds much to their own shock. "Psyche!" Marian cried out trying to catch up with her, but Psyche was past hearing. She had seen the impossible and the unexplainable. A cry tore from her lips. He was real! He was real, and she had seen him! She ran back into her wagon and shut the door.

She pulled her hood off her and and tore the gloves from her hands. She could not breath. She tried to steady herself, but nothing would do to calm her down. She sunk to the floor and buried her head in her hands and wept.

***

The woman must have thought herself rather clever—running from the stage as she had done. Did she know she had played with fire? Men, far braver and far stronger than that mere twig of a girl knew better than to rouse his anger. Yet this woman had the nerve to stare him down and claim she knew him?

Guy had pushed his way through the crowd, maintaing sight of the fleeing woman. He had followed her through the town right back to the traveler's camp. She had run into one of the wagons. Hardly anyone was still lingering around the circle of wagons, most were out among the populace, entertaining the crowds. The woman had sufficiently run herself right into a corner. But what did he want with her? A hand was upon his sword hilt. Would he kill her for her insolence? It would be so easy to barge right into the woman's quarters and kill her without so much as an explanation. No, no he wanted an explanation. He wanted to look into the woman's eyes and hear her tell him how she knew what she knew. Then he could kill her.

He made his way over to the seer's wagon and banged loudly upon the door. There came a gasp from within and the scrambling sound of one rising to their feet in a hurry. "The...the performance is over...go away..." The voice was feeble even as it tried to maintain an air of mysterious strength. Had the woman been crying?

"Open this door," Guy ordered, "or I will break it down."

There was silence from the other side. Guy raised his hand to push down the door. "Wait..wait!" The woman cried, as if knowing just when he would use violence to force his way in. This left him briefly stunned.

The door opened slowly, but the woman sprang away from it, cowering in the back of the wagon. Guy stepped in, looming like an imposing shadow in the light. The woman stared at him as if he was a nightmare. She was right to be afraid, she should have known better than to tempt fate as she had done. Guy liked that look of fear. "Do you know what happens to witches?" he said softly, "They burn," he smirked at her, "You are not a witch are you?"

The woman shook her head. Guy nodded, "I know you are not, which is why...you are going to tell me exactly how you knew so much."

"F-f-for a man who does not believe in witchcraft," Psyche stuttered, "You should know we only say just enough to have an audience doubt its own senses. I..I only said enough to make you think I was telling you something..."

"That's a lie," Guy snapped, "You were specific with the others."

"Yes...well..."

"Tell me or I guarantee you'll be spending the night in the dungeons. Of course, I can't guarantee I won't arrest you regardless."

Psyche gestured to the small chair, almost pleading with him to take the forced offer of hospitality. Guy relented, realizing if he continued to frighten the woman he would terrify her into a stupor and then she would be useless to him. Psyche went to the drawers beside the chair. The moment she build one open, Guy unsheathed his sword, suspecting her of pulling a weapon on him. Psyche raised one hand to show that she was not arming herself. She instead pulled out a little flask. She handed it to him. He stared at her curiously.

"It's not poison," she said, her heavily accented voice biting with sarcasm. "It will help you sleep. You haven't slept in...has it nearly been a week?"

"How would you know that?" Guy snapped, but he took the flask from her hands.

"I could not explain it to you. You would not believe me. But not everything is so mysterious." She pointed to his eyes, "The red in your eyes, and...the lack of color on your skin...it's what happens when one goes without sleep for too long. See?" Psyche said, trying to mask the shaking of her legs by sitting at the foot of her bed, facing him, "I'm not a witch."

"I know you," Guy grunted, studying her.

The woman gave a small jump and she looked at him desperately, "You do?" but it was a whisper, as if she was begging him to tell her how she knew him. Her gloved hands clutched the black skirt of her long dress.

"You were that woman in the Holy Land. You and your friends gave me and my men rest and supplies," Guy said. He knew he had recognized her! It was those unnerving eyes. They stared at him as if daring him to know them, but it was impossible to forget the strange woman. He remembered how she had clothed herself in black and how she had flinched at touch.

She smiled at him, was that sadness in her eyes? "And you were the knight who did not allow me to treat your wound."

This calmed him for a moment, but it did not last. His eyes narrowed, "That does not explain what you are doing here, or how you were able to make those predictions."

"Are all performers subject to interrogation?" Psyche said.

"Only the ones that make themselves worthy of one," Guy retorted with a wolfish grin.

"In that case," Psyche sighed, "I am here because I am."

"Enough with your shadows and mirrors, woman, I am not the gullible crowd."

"Your Prince is here and there is a meeting of great importance being held. It concerns your King," Psyche's answer caught Guy completely by surprise. Before he could accuse her of conspiracy or of being a spy she said, "I may not be a witch, but I can see enough to make such predictions that would shock the crowd. Your Prince is doubtful of his right to rule. I can make him certain of it."

"And that is why you are here," No one knew of the Prince's arrival in Nottingham. It was kept a secret from all save the Black Knights. There was no possible way this woman would have known.

"I make it a point to listen when I am given a vision. Will you grant me an audience with the Prince?"

"You knew...you knew I would follow you from the stage and you knew I would ask...how did you--"

"I told you. I couldn't possibly explain it to you," Psyche said, rising to her feet.

"Who are you?" Guy asked. This woman was like nothing he had ever encountered before. Those eyes stared straight into his soul, like there was no trace of humanity in that black form.

"My name is Psyche."

"I am Sir Guy of Gisborne. If you wait outside the castle gates, I'll get you your audience, although I can not say that it won't be the death of you." He grinned maniacally, as if the idea of this bold and powerful woman speaking to the Prince amused him in some way.

Psyche's face fell at the sound of the man's name. "I will be there," she replied mechanically and watched as he left her room.

Guy of Gisborne? Guy...Marian's Guy? The man who had left her for dead? Had loved so strongly it had driven him to madness? She screamed inwardly. How it all made sense at last! Her meeting with Marian, her dreams, her connection to both him and her. Marian had not been sent to her to help her find the man who had been haunting her, _she_ was to be the catalyst to reunited Marian with Guy. She couldn't bear it. Guy had been in her dreams. Marian had not been witness to the agony and the nightmares. The connection was with _her!_

Marian was at the door. She knew this before the knock came. Psyche wrenched it open. Marian looked flustered, "I...I saw...are you all right?"

She must have seen Guy leaving the wagon. Psyche knew in that moment she could never tell Marian that Guy and the man in her nightmares were one and the same. It would be the end of their friendship, she could see it. There was a spark in Marian's eyes. Psyche knew it was from glimpsing the man. Marian had said that she had once cared for guy, but Psyche could see it might have been far more if circumstance had been different. Psyche felt her heart wrench and for once she could not understand or predict why. The pain was real and sharp, unclouded by the surreal and the dream.

"Psyche?" Marian asked, worried at the pained light in her friend's eyes.

Psyche shook her head, but the feeling did not evaporate. It lingered, like a viper slowly choking the life from her. She needed to continue with the task that had been placed upon her. She forced a triumphant grin upon her strained features and said, "I may have found our way into the castle."

* * *

**A/N: Let the games begin, eh? Lots more to come. As always, I love hearing from you! Drop a review if you want. :) **


	20. Soothsayer

XX

Soothsayer

At first Marian was skeptical, even outraged at the deal Psyche had made with Guy. The very notion that she had just spent nearly an hour alone with the man was enough to send a shooting pang of jealousy, so white hot she thought she would double over with the intensity of it. Psyche spoke calmly, her face a blank as she related the plans to her friend. Her eyes never shifted from Marian's and she never paused so push down a hesitation or an unspoken word. While Psyche's demeanor was tranquil, Marian winced often as she listened to her speak, her face twisting with pain and guilt. Psyche saw all the flickers of emotion dance across Marian's face. It took everything within her not to leap up onto her feet, hiss and spit predatory insults and declare that she had no right to feel such pain and jealousy when all along this agony had been hers. She resisted the temptation, simply because she knew she had no right to declare such emotion, at least she had no right in Marian's eyes.

"How was he?" Marian asked. Her eyes lowered to the floor as her hands twisted about the fabric of her dress in her lap.

"Broken," Psyche answered. Her voice fell like bricks upon stone, the syllable of the word crumbling under the weight of the ground beneath it. "Broken, and in need of guidance." _Guidance which is mine to give! Mine, mine, mine!_

"You are not going to suggest that I show myself to him again are you?" Marian's gruff tone did not surprise Psyche in the least.

"No, no I think it best now that you don't see him." That was a lie, a selfish lie told to mend the invisible fractures forming inside of her. The truth of the matter was pushing down against her soul. Marian was the cure and the symptom. Guy needed her. Psyche needed him.

"But you are going to see him tonight?" Marian asked.

"Yes."

"Then you can tell me how he is...you—you could maybe take my messages to him. Oh, don't tell him anything at all about me! I mean...I could tell you what to say and you could tell him...I..."

"No." The refusal was sharp and it rent sound apart like an ax slicing through the head of a hapless victim. This 'no' was final. The anger and indignation in Psyche's eyes burned so brightly Marian felt herself cower inwardly. "Never ask me something like that again."

"I'm sorry..."

Psyche merely shook her head, ready enough to be done with this useless argument. Marian thought it best to change the subject, "Did you see him? The man in your dreams? Did you see him in the crowd today? The way you were screaming..." she shuddered, "I thought for sure that you were getting a vision of him."

"I told you, Marian, that man is not real." _Not mine_.

"One day you are going to regret those words, my friend," Marian said, smiling as she clapped a hand atop Psyche's shoulder.

"I think not." Psyche shrugged the hand away.

Marian sighed, "You have been acting distant towards me since we arrived in England. What is going on? I thought we were friends."

"We are friends," Psyche said, "I am merely beginning to realize our differences. You are to have a life here, full of friends and family and above all else love. I? I'm a mirror you can hold up to yourself to show you the way."

"Now that is most certainly not true."

Psyche sat down upon her cot, her hands folded awkwardly in her lap, in much the same fashion as they were when she had spoken to Gisborne. She looked up at Marian, dropping the pretense of the mystical seer. Her eyes watered with unshed tears. "I am beginning to understand, Marian...understand things you could not possibly imagine. I _did _predict your coming to us, I _knew_ how and when you would see your Robin again. I saw everything. I can no longer explain it, but it is not coincidence."

Marian sat beside the distraught woman. "Mariel told me you would know soon enough how to handle your gift. I think that is why she had you perform today. She said she did not want you to be blind forever."

"Then she's damned me," Psyche whispered, her hands covering her mouth, "She knows not how she has condemned me."

"You mustn't say that."

"But I can," Psyche turned towards Marian, eyes cold as ice, "I am not throwing words about for the sake of theatrics, Marian. If I stayed blind to this gift I could have gone on living at least half of a human life."

Marian tried to find the words to comfort her friend, but none of them seemed at all appropriate. She tried to reach out and at last clasp the woman's hand in her own, but even that gesture of comfort would have been unwarranted and despised. Psyche was an impossible figure to hold and to console. Maybe she was right, and that she was damned with this gift to stand separate from the rest of humanity. Marian sat quietly next to Psyche until she was certain that whatever despair was still in her was quieted for a time. When she knew she was no longer needed she left her.

The sun was a mockery of brightness when compared with the darkness of the wagon she had just left. Marian had to shield her eyes momentarily as she stepped down back into the town square. People were still milling about the circle of wagons and a few of the Players were entertaining some onlookers. Marian could hear Gabrielle singing, her clear notes piercing the midday air with the graceful breath of chimes. Now there was a gift to be treasured. Marian smiled, Joshua had climbed up onto the top of one of the wagons to watch her sing. He was certainly smitten with the young girl, even if he did not quite understand that just yet.

Robin and the gang were standing huddled around the steps of the same wagon. Marian approached them with a small wave.

"Any news?" Robin asked of his wife.

"Psyche's made a deal with Gisborne," Marian said, skirting over the name as if the subject of the man did not exist to her. "She is to meet him at the castle gates tonight and he will get her an audience with the Prince."

"Gisborne?" Robin asked, "What deal could he have made with her?"

"I don't know," Marian said, "He was watching her perform...perhaps he believes in her abilities."

"Or perhaps he's as gullible as the others," Robin laughed.

"Did you want one of us to shadow her when she goes into the Castle?" Will asked, shrugging his cloak about him.

Marian shook her head, "That wouldn't be wise. This is her first time in, let her get a feel for the place, and if she's welcomed by the Prince then we can discuss how to get in as well."

"I don't like it," Will said, "her going in on her own with Gisborne. How do we know it isn't a trap?"

"Because, Guy couldn't possibly suspect her of being a spy. He only just saw her today. I think just this once, Will, we can trust that Guy won't do anything rash," Robin's word was final.

"Will all of you shut up? You are making it impossible to hear anything," Joshua shouted down to them reducing them all to silent laughter.

***

Psyche stood as one staring into the mouth of hell as she waited by the gates of Nottingham Castle. She was dressed perfectly for a denizen of the underworld, with her black dress swirling at her feet and her cloak and hood obscuring her face. The sun had only set an hour ago and the sky was violet with the afterglow of evening's dying rays. She stood silent as a sentinel, watching the stairs and the door past the courtyard.

The two guards who were standing watch by the gates were purposely trying to avert their eyes from the sight of her. Psyche payed them no heed. Her eyes were fixed upon those great wooden doors. She willed them to open. She had power over the past and the future, she could will a few doors to open if she wished, should she not?

Behind her and away into the town she could see Robin and his gang in one of the wagons; waiting. She could see them, bringing the picture right into her mind's eye as clearly as if they were standing before her. She could _see_. And the ability gave her a sudden thrill of power which frightened her.

The crack of the doors erased the vision before her. The inside of the castle seemed reduced to a dark glow from Psyche's vantage point. Out of the blackness she saw Guy emerge. He walked down the staircase with arrogant precision, she could hear the clink of metal in his footsteps.

"Raise the gates," he barked to the two guards who scurried away at the mere sight of him.

Psyche stared at Guy from the other side of the gates and did not turn her eyes away even as the gates were raised. She pulled her hood down, revealing the human underneath. "You kept your word," she said, amused.

"I never lie," Guy snapped.

"I know."

He was not going to ask her how she knew. She probably would not indulge his curiosity even if he did. He tilted his head to one side, gesturing for her to follow him. "You have told the Prince of my arrival?" she asked.

"More or less."

"I thought you said you never lie?"

"I have informed the Prince of your abilities, I did not tell him when you would be arriving."

"Have a flare for the dramatics do you?" Psyche asked.

"How is that?"

"Always make your entrance a mystery." Psyche braved a glance up at the man, pleased to see a thin smirk upon his face. He caught her gaze for a moment and the madness in his eyes cooled.

Guy gestured towards a pair of doors. "Wait here," he said before disappearing into the room.

Psyche stood in the doorway. Her hands reached for the collar of her hood as she raised it again. She could hear voices from beyond and from the nonexistent echo she judged the room was a small one. She could see two torches mounted on the side of the room and their glow revealed a few modest furnishings. Were these the Prince's private chambers? Psyche glanced around the empty hall, attempting to go back through her memory in order to memorize her location in case she needed to inform the others.

Guy emerged from the dark, looming over her, every inch as much of the wraith as she was. "You may enter," he told her, "speak well for him and he might let you walk out of here alive." He grinned down at her as charming as a viper.

Psyche nodded and made her way in; her steps fluid as her gown trailed beneath her feet. The room was as small as she had surmised with only a few torches and candles to illuminate the place. Two men occupied two chairs and it was evident they had been in conference before she had arrived. This must be the Prince and the other...the Sheriff she had heard who was in alliance with him. She bowed low to the two men, but did not remove her hood.

"Sire," she said, her voice whispering with mist, "I have traveled a fair distance to speak with you."

"A fair distance was it?" Prince John said, "Tell me, did you arrive with the other vagabonds I saw parading about the town?"

"I did indeed, Sire, but I did not come here to entertain or distract you. I came to offer my guidance and my visions," Psyche said.

"How delightful of you," John laughed, easing back into his chair.

"My lord, might I interject? This woman is a charlatan and a fraud. We can certainly--"

"Hush, Vaysey and let the woman speak her peace. I am intrigued by her," John snapped, silencing the disgruntled Sheriff.

It was then Psyche removed her hood, fixing her unsettling stare upon the two men. "You speak of frauds Sheriff Vaysey, that implies one who lacks an ability they claim to possess. You claimed to be able to not only rid Nottingham of the outlaw Robin Hood, but to also assassinate your King. Yet you failed in both of these endeavors. Sire," she bowed once again to John, "I assure you I am not such a fraud."

The Prince laughed while Vaysey leapt to his feet, more out of fear than outrage. "I'm not a spy, Sheriff," Psyche remarked, holding her ground, "and you won't find the source of my tricks by circling me. Please, my lord, sit down. I do not mean to offend, I speak only the truth."

"Come on Vaysey, sit," John commanded. "I will hear what the woman has to say. Tell me, seer, what do you see in my future."

Psyche locked eyes with the man. He stared at her with a child's greed, already knowing the answer she would tell him if she desired that her head remain attached to her neck. "Sire, I am told you are fond of fortune-tellers and soothsayers, I do not need skills in the prescient arts to divine such information. I am not of the breed; however, to merely tell you what you want to hear. I ask you for permission to speak freely.

Vaysey laugh beside John, but the Prince nodded, "Permission granted." He could always do away with her if her answers failed to please him. Standing off in the darkened corner of the room Guy could not resist a small chuckle of foreboding. Psyche looked over at him only briefly. His dark farm barely outlined by the flames. He stood so cold and alone in the embrace of night. Psyche's gloved hands twitched at her sides, she had a desire to tear her cloak from her body and bring it to the man and wrap in him in it. For the first time she longed for the moment when sleep would come for her and she would have him for her own. Those cold and mad eyes stared at her and she felt her mind sear with his pain.

She looked away and back at the Prince, the clouds from her sixth sense fading to reveal the crystal of her visions. She blinked a few times as she studied the man before her. "The ransom you must pay to retrieve your brother is a pointless endeavor and it will fail. The money will be found and the King will return."

She saw John's lip twitch with displeasure and Psyche was pleased by this, for she disliked men who desired only to hear their fortune and disregarded their ill-fortune. "However," she went on, her eyes glossing over momentarily, "this will only provide a minor hinderance to your goal. You will wear the crown of a King one day and it will by this same hated brother that you receive it."

When Psyche was once again rooted in the world of the present she could hear the dull sound of applause ring in her ears. She shook her head and saw John clapping whole heartedly. When he ceased he rose from his chair and came face to face with her. "You," he said, "are a most unusual brand of fortune teller."

"I am no fortune teller," Psyche said, taking a step back, "I do not deal with cards and false readings for coin. I only speak what I see and what I know to be true."

"You can really see the future?" He asked her and Psyche nodded, "How clearly? Do you know what will happen tomorrow?"

"Sire, it does not work like that. I can see certainties and I can divine human emotion. The future I described to you, Sire, I merely saw a crown and felt your pride and confidence while I felt your brother's surety and decision. To me, these are as clear as glass. As your curiosity and inability to decide whether or not to kill me or make me your soothsayer are now."

"Wonderful," he laughed, "Remarkable girl. Isn't she, Vaysey? She stands before us and speaks her mind regardless of her words. Is she not pleasing?"

"Yes, Sire," Vaysey said.

Psyche grinned, "You need not flatter me, my lord. You may dislike me all you wish." Her grin merely gained her a flash of white-hot animosity and the image of a sword running through her belly caused her to bite back a wave of bile. The man felt in graphic detail each twist of the swore within her prone form. She forced the empathic connection away before she gagged. This den of snakes was a hellish one.

"Will you perform another reading?" John asked.

"If my lord commands it, I can not refuse," came the standard reply.

"Excellent," John said jovial, "Sir Guy!" he called, turning towards the darkness, "come and join us. You were the one who brought her here, I insist you let her see your future."

Guy abandoned his solitude and moved towards the center of the room. In his eyes burned his refusal, but he knew better than to place such thoughts upon his lips. "Sire, I am afraid I have already read Sir Guy's future this afternoon," Psyche did her level best to keep her voice calm.

"But surely," Guy said, "a woman of your skill could see further now?" He was taunting her into death, trying to see when she would slip and reveal herself for a liar.

Psyche accepted the silent challenge. "A small prediction then. You will sleep without nightmares tonight."

Guy chuckled, "A small thing,"

"For a man who is as tormented as you are, nightmares are no small thing," Psyche said. "Consider it a test, Sire," she said turning to John, "If Sir Guy awakes rested and undisturbed tomorrow you might believe that I am what I say I am."

"Remarkable girl," John laughed, "I will take you up on that bet. Let Sir Guy be the judge then. Tomorrow morning. If you are wrong, I'll have you arrested for fraud, if you are right; however, I will allow you into my service as my advisor and soothsayer."

"My lord is a generous and wise man," Psyche bowed, her teeth gritted all the while.

"Sir Guy, see that this woman is given comfortable chambers for the night," John said, "Until tomorrow," he dismissed them both.

"A mistake, girl," Guy said to her as soon as they had left the room.

"I highly doubt that. I do not play such games with my life," Psyche retorted.

"What possessed you to make me the judge?" Guy asked, "You will fail, you know. You know nothing of what haunts me."

"The simple task of my purpose here possessed me. I did not come to Nottingham to become the Prince's personal soothsayer or advisor. I came to find you, Guy of Gisborne. And I assure you, I know exactly what haunts you."

"Do you take me for a fool?" His voice was controlled even as he whirled about to face her, his hands inches from her throat.

"No."

"Then why not tell me this before."

"You would not have wanted me. Now you will have no choice but to face me."

"Not if I kill you now."

"And have more than one woman's blood on your hands?!"

Guy fell silent, the hellish light in his eyes twisting into dire confusion. Psyche was bombarded by the image of Marian falling to the ground, a sword through her body. "Shall I say her name?" Psyche whispered and at this the torment only increased. She could not tell if she was hurting him or herself more. "Marian..."

"You can not know that...you _could_ not..."

"But I do."

Guy stumbled backwards. He could not be sure if he was dreaming or if he had been hallucinating this woman's presence since that afternoon. "What do you want with me?" He asked the specter.

"I want to heal you." The words broke and shattered as they left the woman's lips.

Guy's gaze hardened again, "You can not." He batted the invisible hand of comfort away from him, "Now follow me...in silence you damned witch."

* * *

**A/N: Had a moment to update. :) Consider it my Valentine's Day gift to all of you. Hope you enjoyed it. More to come as soon as I have another moment to write! **


	21. Waking Nightmares

XXI

Waking Nightmares

The world went black before Psyche's eyes, but just as quickly the world of dull greys and muted colors flashed before her eyes. She was getting better at this. The gray walled landscape was familiar and for the first time; wanted. Psyche ran through the empty plain of surreality. There was only a dull ache behind her eyes, but the pain was hardly noticeable. At first she panicked. Had she lost her connection? Dreaming was a painful act, but now it felt as senseless as blinking an eye; she did not know what she did.

"You."

The voice startled her as she turned to face the shadowed figure of Guy. He stood in amazement, but it was not recognition in his eyes. How could it be? Psyche touched the rim of her hood, he could not see her face. She placed a finger to her lips. The ache behind her eyes was growing by the second. Like tugging a thread through the eye of a needle, Psyche latched onto the spiraling string of pain. _I promised you would sleep without dreams_. She said, her voice echoing about in her own head. _And I never lie_.

As if she had raised her hand to wipe the image of her tormentor out of existence, she vanished the scene before her, turning into utter blackness. It was only until she was completely alone that she allowed the tightly wound string of nightmares loose...

***

She had been sitting awake for the better half of an hour. The sun had risen some time ago, and Psyche found this the perfect time to take stock of her current surroundings. The room she had been placed in was adequately sized. Not so small that she was trapped for space, and not so large that she lost herself.

The one odd thing she found was not the drawers, the windows, or the stone floors, but the bed. Since she had been a child she had only known the small cots that had been designed especially for the traveling wagons. The bed was on object of absolute mystery to the woman and she indulged in the childish pleasure of rolling about in the blankets and quilts, and burying her head amongst the pillows. The mattress was of a soft sort, and she marveled at the fact that she could hardly feel the wooden stand it had been placed upon. She could always feel the wood at the bottom of her cot. If she had enjoyed sleeping at any point in her life she would have reveled in the piece of furniture. As it was, Psyche found the bed had lost all appeal when she had awoken screaming in the night. Even the myriad of quilts and pillows could not have drowned out her terrors then.

There came a knock at her door and Psyche crossed the room to open it. She pulled the handle outward and tugged at the door. The face which greeted her was far from pleased, but there was a hint of fear and awe behind those haunting blue eyes. "Good morning," Psyche said to Guy of Gisborne, her voice laced with an innocent hum, "I trust you slept well last night."

"I thought you said you were not a witch," Guy cut straight to the heart of the matter.

"I'm not."

"Then you poisoned me...drugged me somehow."

"Why would I poison you?" Psyche answered, infuriating the man further.

When his hands reached for her, seeking to do her some harm, Psyche flew backwards. Guy's leather gloves barely scrapped the silken black cloth of her sleeve. Denied his prey, he balled his hands up into fists, "Do not use me for your tricks again."

"I have not been using you, I assure you."

Psyche found she could not hold the man's silent stare any longer. She shifted from one foot to the other, "Have you come to fetch me for the Prince, then? I highly doubt you came here just to enjoy the pleasure of my company?"

"Shouldn't you already know why I am here?" Guy spat.

"Haven't I already guessed?" She countered with a grin.

Guy leaned against the doorway. At one time, Psyche thought, he might have appreciated her attempt at humor, but now his expression never changed. She sighed, letting the matter go. "Aren't you going to ask me if I'll back your prediction? I could lie to the Prince."

"You act as if _you_ were the seer with all the answers of the future," Psyche fed into his games with an eagerness she never thought possible. "Besides, you will tell the truth. I trust you."

"Your first mistake, witch."

"No mistake." The simple response silenced Guy and for a moment he stared at her as if she were any other human in the world. His eyes examined her, but not for some secret measurement of power, but for some common ability to understand her. Psyche reveled in it.

"We've wasted enough time," Guy said, "The Prince will have been waiting."

As Psyche made her way to the door, Guy attempted to lead her out into the hallway. Psyche slipped through his grip once again. She knew in that instant she had cracked the spider-silk fragile bond she had begun to weave. His confusion came as a hard punch to the side of her head. "I apologize," she said, sifting through the fog of conflicting emotions to try and identify her own, "I have not been clear with you. You can not touch me."

"_I_..."

"Not just you," Psyche proceeded, "anyone, everyone." The pained worry that he was so monstrous as to not be warranted even the briefest of human contacts faded out of both of their thoughts and Psyche could breathe properly once more.

"You've never been touched?" Guy asked, "Ever?"

"I can't be," Psyche said, "It hurts too much."

She expected him to mutter some condolence, or to probe her for more answers to his questions as Marian had done. "You're lucky," Guy said, "Very lucky."

"Yes," she said as she walked alongside of him, "I know." Questions appeared in her mind. Does she understand? It was tinged with forgotten and forced hope and she wanted to say that she understood far better than he ever could know.

"In here," Guy said opening up the doors.

Why couldn't that stretch of hallway gone on for longer? Psyche walked into the Prince's chambers with slow steps, savoring the last few moments he had alone with Guy.

A jovial laugh gave them both pause. The Prince approached them with an eager grin upon his face, "Ah, Gisborne, at last. Brought the fortune-teller, I see. Excellent. Enlighten us then, do we have an imposter in our midsts, or one of the gift?"

"The woman spoke truly, Sire," Guy said, "I wasn't visited by any dreams last night."

Psyche did not turn her gaze towards Guy. She kept her eyes upon the Prince, confidence flowing through every inch of her as the man appraised her. "I knew it. I could tell she was speaking the truth the moment she arrived. My dear, a deal is a deal. You have proven you are certainly worthy of becoming my soothsayer. I have not had the pleasure of having one so talented as yourself before."

Psyche dipped her head, "I thank you, Sire, I am at your service whenever you should require me." The words did not require nearly as much force to utter as she thought.

"And to whom do I have the pleasure of bestowing such an honor?"

"Psyche, Sire."

"Exquisite name," he said with a curling smile. He turned to Guy, "See that she is given chambers closer to my own, she is my honored guest,"

"Sire?" Psyche asked, "If you do not require my services immediately, I should like to be given permission to rejoin my fellow traveler's for the day. I need to at least notify them of my whereabouts or they will get worried."

"Of course, you may come and go from the Castle as you wish when you are not in service," John said.

"My Prince is most generous."

"Yes, I know."

She was taken from his chambers after a short counsel, one only made bearable by Guy's presence. He walked with her now as he led her out of the Castle and back through the narrow streets to the town square. They spoke little, but Psyche heard the wealth of unspoken thoughts and feelings.

As they entered the Player's camp, Psyche stopped Guy, "You may leave me now."

"You'll be expected back at the Castle before nightfall," he said.

"You need not worry about that," Psyche replied. "I'll be back well before nightfall, perhaps in time to counsel you if you so wish?"

Guy gave a harsh laugh, "You tend to the Prince and leave me out of whatever scheme you are playing at." The woman's unnerving stare ended his laughter.

"I told you before. I'm not here for the Prince."

Her surety was troubling. She had no right to stare at him so and pluck out secrets that were his alone. His mind was his own, no matter how tattered it was. "I leave you to your people," he said turning to walk away.

"Farewell, Sir Guy," Psyche said, a thin-lipped smile appearing on her face as he craned his head back to look at her. She made her way back to the camp, Guy's subtle intrigue providing her with a tinge of delight. She could still feel his eyes on her retreating form, but she dared not look back.

Guy watched as she disappeared inside her wagon, a flash of black in the bright morning. She would have to learn her place soon enough. At least her presence would only be for a few months at the most, until she either left with the rest of the Players are went back to London with the Prince and his retinue. He was finding it harder to doubt that the woman's intentions were truly for his own purpose. She knew more than she had a right to, but if she misspoke again he would cut her tongue out to keep her from speaking his thoughts.

He was about to turn away when he caught sight of another woman coming around one of the wagons at the center of the square. The air turned to glass around him and it cut his lungs as he fought to breathe. The woman was dressed simply in a green dress, one of the Player's black cloaks was around her and it blew about her in the breeze. She moved with swift purpose and glanced around her to check for any sign of other people.

The woman's name was on his lips. _Marian!_ It was the perfect image of her. She was right before him, but she did not see him as she walked. Guy felt himself grow weak. He had never before seen her form walking about in the daylight. It was only in his dreams! How could she have left them? When Marian's image disappeared once again behind one of the wagons, Guy felt a scream lodge itself in his throat. The world swam before him. He turned and ran back to the Castle, pushing people out of his way as he ran from his waking nightmare.

***

"The Prince has taken me into his counsel," Psyche announced to her small audience of outlaws. "I have free range of the Castle and can come and go as I wish. You need not send in any spies. I can come and report back to you."

"Marian, you friend is an absolute godsend," Robin said with a laugh as he swept his wife up in a dancing embrace.

"It won't do any good," Psyche said as soon as the celebrations had died down.

"What do you mean?" Marian asked.

"Prince John, he will be King whether or not this ransom succeeds or fails," Psyche said. There was no cry of outrage at her at her words, only silence.

"You can not know that," Much said, pointing a finger of troubled accusation at her.

"But I can," Psyche said, "I will, still, of course help you to foil the Prince's plan, but that is all I will be able to do. I can give you the amount he intends to pay in order to see that the King is kept in custody once I know of it. As to what you will do with that, that is out of my hands entirely."

"But you have the Prince's ear," Robin said, "You can guide him into making all of the moves we need him to make. Surely, that means you can stop him?"

"I'm beginning to realize, Robin, you can have no control over what is to come," Psyche said.

"I refuse to believe that," Robin countered. "Prince John will never be King."

"Your refusal to accept it, is what will make you able to continue fighting him even when he does," Psyche said.

"We can't deal with hypotheticals now, can we?" Marian said, breaking through the tension and pulling Robin away from Psyche, disliking the way the two were staring down the other. "Our next plan of action has to be how to get the money out of the castle when it arrives...which it will."

"How do we know if the money isn't already in the Castle?" Tuck asked, speaking for the first time since the initial briefing.

"I can find that out," Psyche said.

"You'll need someone with you when you do," Tuck said.

"Give me more time, the Prince needs to trust me first. Who do you think he'll suspect if the money suddenly goes missing so soon?"

"Fine," Robin said, "But do it soon, The King can not afford to wait for the Prince's trust."

Psyche nodded, not at liberty to argue against the man. "Now, if you all don't mind," she said as she donned her cloak and hood, "The people expect a show, and I would hate to disappoint."

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully I'll have more time to write towards the end of the semester. :) Work's been getting pretty crazy...but in a good way. **

**Well, you know what to do! Drop a review and let me know what you all think of the chapter!  
**


	22. Gloves

XXII

Gloves

Psyche ran through the courtyard, holding the skirt of her long black dress above her ankles as she took the stairs two at a time. The sky above her was a violet black, the clouds blocking both stars and moon. Psyche cursed herself as she nearly tripped for lack of light. With an effort, she pushed the doors open and ran into the castle.

It hadn't been her fault, she rationalized. Her performance for the day had finished well before evening had even begun, yet she had been held captive by her audience as they asked her questions and followed her to her wagon. The attention was dangerous. The public was notoriously fickle when it came to fortune telling and witchcraft. One moment it was a delight, a common amusement, the next it was prophetic and worthy of blessings, and before one could even get a handle hold of the rising tide of followers, the crowd would suddenly decide that the fortunes were of hellish origin and the seer was of the Devil.

Psyche was not entirely anxious over the rise in her popularity. When she had been a child she had cried with fright over the rapid transfer of love to hate from her audiences. Since then she had learned how best to play the crowds, but at times it was not enough. At least now she had the backing of the Prince if things should turn sour, but he too was a fickle man, and his favor would not last forever. It was best to find out where the ransom money was coming from or being held and how to get it as soon as possible and move on.

A wave of despair washed over her. For a moment, Psyche could not be sure if it was her own. She placed a hand upon a stone pillar to catch her breath before moving off down the corridor once more, a shuffle in her steps instead of her former hurried stride. Her room was not far off now.

She clutched the iron door handle upon reaching her room, and yanked the door open in one fluid movement.

"You are late," Guy said from within her chambers. He was sitting in one of the chairs beside the far window, his legs propped up against the small table top.

Psyche paused in the doorway, licking dried lips. She pulled the door shut behind her, counting each tick of the hinges. Once closed she turned to look at him, "What am I late for?"

"You promised you would be back before nightfall," he gestured to the dark window, "Well?"

"Forgive me," Psyche said, undoing the clasp of her cloak and draping it across the bed. She took the time to smooth out unseen wrinkles as she spoke, "I was detained."

"A pathetic excuse," Guy said.

"No excuse," Psyche countered. "What are you doing in my room? I was led to believe I had free range of Nottingham. I am not under some interrogation am I?"

Guy shook his head as he leaned back in the chair, "For a seer you ask far too many questions then you're worth."

"Then let me rephrase the question," Psyche took a seat in the chair opposite Guy, "Why are you in my room instead of off in some tavern drinking away whatever disturbing thought seems to have you in a strangle hold tonight?"

Guy averted his eyes, "Drinking did not help."

It was then Psyche noticed the blurred red in his eyes, but judging from the angle he kept his seat, whatever drunken stupor he had been in for the better half of the day was finally fading into a gray sobriety. Psyche folded her velvet hands in her lap, "Do you, then, think that I can?"

Guy laughed, but it was unconvincing. Psyche remained looking at him with the blank stare of the impartial. Guy's laughter died on his lips almost immediately he had opened them. "You said you were here to help me..."

"I am."

"I saw her..." the words left him after a moment of silence, and even then the words were strung on fibers of delicate string. He would not say her name.

Psyche folded her hands in her laps and locked her hands together so as to make the sudden strain of her body look natural as she pulled herself up. Guy went on to explain. "The image of her—I saw her trailing off after you, between the wagons, and then she was gone," he held his head in his hands, "I am going mad. I know it. It is one thing to have her haunt me in my dreams, but I can not bear seeing her while I am...I can not..."

"Shhh," Psyche silenced him before his voice could break further. So he thought Marian was only a ghost? She did not know whether to be relieved or further pained. He looked at her with expectation in his eyes, as if she held the cure for his disease and with one dose he would be well again. "I do not have the power to commune with ghosts," she said, drowning the spark of hope she saw flash within him.

"Then it was only in my mind..."

Psyche bit her lip. "Yes," The cold lie stole her voice for a moment as she absorbed the bitter taste of her own falsehood while attempting to block out the screeching agony from Guy. She did hold the key to his redemption, but she could not give it to him. What would be the point in allowing him to behold the woman he was not meant to have and to hold as his own? She defied her own prophecy and closed her eyes as she tried to erase the vision of Guy and Marian reuniting.

"There is nothing you can do, then?" Guy asked, but it was more of a resigned statement

"No. There is something. I can promise you will not be visited by ghosts or nightmares tonight while you sleep. I can give you that amount of peace."

The look of gratitude upon Guy's face caused Psyche's heart to swell. "Thank you," he whispered.

He stood up to leave, but a shaking, gloved hand reached out across the table and touched his own gloved hand. "I know you do not believe that I can help you; that I possess some power over your mind and heart. At times I do not believe it either. I realize you are a proud man. I would do nothing to undermine that. I do not seek to drive you into madness just to make you believe I mean what I say."

Guy could barely feel her against the two layers of thick cloth separating them. His leather glove nearly enveloped her delicate velvet wrist as he gave her hand a light squeeze. It was the first human contact he had experienced, and warm or not, he did not realize how much he would covet it. This thought was only magnified by her words.

"May I speak with you again?" Now he was all civility and gentleness. The change was greeted with a wide smile from the serious woman.

"I promise this time not to be so late." The quiet joke was met with a smirk from the man.

Guy finally let got of Psyche's hand and left her chambers. Psyche let her hand fall to rest upon the table top as she suddenly let out an exhale of breath in a burst that was almost a cry. Feeling drained and exhausted, Psyche crawled into her bed. She was asleep before she could pull the quilts over her shivering body.

***

Joshua went with Robin and Tuck as they made their rounds through the town of Nottingham the next morning. He bounded down the streets and allies with a youthful energy. His glee was infectious, and as he handed out parcels of coins or food to the people, they found themselves unable to keep from grinning at the young boy.

Joshua balanced atop one of the ramshackle roofs, wobbling ever so slightly along the edge. "Never thought I'd live to see the day I'd actually give stolen goods _back!_"

"You're going to fall," Robin called.

Just for that Joshua performed a severe wobble, startling Robin into nearly holding out his arms to catch the sure to be falling boy. Joshua let out a hearty laugh and regained his balance. "Gotcha," he said. "I'm not going to fall." He performed a cartwheel off of the roof, landing on his feet in front of the two men. "Not unless I plan to, anyway."

Tuck tossed him another satchel of coins, "Give this to the family that lives just three houses down from here. See it?"

Joshua nodded that he could. He did not need to be told twice, "I see it, Mirza, be back before you could miss me." He took off like an arrow shot from a high strung bow.

Robin acknowledged his partner. "Mirza?" He asked, a questioning rumble in his naturally cheerful voice.

Tuck merely shrugged, his face betraying nothing, "It is nothing, merely the Hebrew name for a thief."

"My friend," Robin slung an arm about Tuck, grinning, "that would be ganav. The name young Joshua dubbed you is neither thief nor Hebrew. He has called you a prince."

"You will forgive me, Robin, for thinking you could be played for a fool," Tuck sighed with a smile of his own. He could see the light of caution in Robin's eyes as he reassessed his supposed friend.

"What is your name?" Robin asked.

"I have many names," Tuck chuckled.

"Mirza being one of them?" Robin did not require an answer.

Tuck only nodded, "It is customary to call the Prince of Thieves such a thing."

"You are not..."

"Oh yes, I most certainly am."

"But...but your a monk!"

"Marvelous places, your Christian monasteries. You keep the most delightfully valuable treasures locked away in there. I must admit, breaking into them is quite the challenge, I had not anticipated how heavily guarded they would be. I was kept in the Abbaye de Fontenay for nearly a month. I believe they intended to pray the sinner out of me. I managed to escape by fighting off one of the monks. Took his clothes and made my way out. It's quite easy getting what you want while dressed as a man of the cloth. Found passage on a ship bound for England and that, Robin, is how I found your man Allan." Tuck recited all of this with a devilish smile. Robin could only stare and listen as this was recounted to him.

"And you chose to fight with us?"

"Why not? I am a wanted man back in my home. I will admit, I did not expect to see one of my most talented protegees again." He smiled at the returning figure of Joshua.

"All set here?" The boy asked looking up at his old mentor and Robin, his recent figure of admiration.

"Aye," Tuck said, "Robin? Say we head back to the others?"

"I think that would be best," Robin agreed.

As they walked back, Joshua once again scaled one of the smaller buildings to run atop the roofs. Tuck gave a low laugh, "Such a talented boy. You know, I am not ashamed to admit he will not lead the same life as me."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. You're life seems to be one worthy of living honorably," Robin said.

"I take it you mean to keep me in your gang?"

"Disown the Prince of Thieves? At a time like this?" Robin looked scandalized.

"Don't be so modest, Robin, I'd say you give me a fair run for the title."

"I'm honored, my friend."

***

Psyche came down the steps of the castle with a leisurely gait. The two guards by the gate acknowledged her with a small nod of their heads and they let her through without question. She would go and report to Marian and Robin, do her performance as she always did and hurry back to the castle to commune with Guy. Why could it not be evening now? She questioned as she glared at the sun in open defiance. The day seemed like it would drag on for an eternity, even her steps were small and slow as she made her way over towards the Player's camp.

So distracted by her own thoughts was she, Psyche failed to notice a woman approaching her. "You're the fortune teller ain't ya?" she said, causing Psyche to spin about and address the woman.

The moment the woman caught sight of her stern face she reached out to her, "Please, my lady, my daughter...she's sick. Can ya tell me if she's gonna be well?!"

Psyche backed away from the frantic woman. Her cries drew the attention of a few other townspeople. Recognizing her as the seer they had come so often to watch and believing she was given the poor woman a personal prediction, they ran over towards her. Soon there were voices pounding in Psyche's ears.

"Wait...please..." Psyche spluttered at the sudden onslaught of people bombarding her.

"My husband is in the wars will he come home?!"

"When will the King return?"

"Will this winter be as bad as the last one?"

The shouts and pleadings went on. Psyche tried to back away from the forming mob, her hands out in front of her to fend off the crowd. "Please...I..."

As she moved, they reached out for her, gripping her sleeves, the hem of her dress, pulling her back to them. Psyche gave a thin cry at the assault of their touch. The eyes of the people were hysterical with hope and reverence wanting her to speak words to them and them only. They shouted over their neighbors words, finding what they had to ask far less important than their own questions. It soon became a fight for dominance over the panicking woman.

"Psyche?!" It was Gabrielle. She stood at the center of the camp, watching the people mill about the woman.

"Gabrielle!" Psyche shouted, all trace of dignity gone as she dodged and ducked the grabbing hands, "Help me!"

"Leave the woman alone!" At this dark shout the people did cease their senseless pleading. Psyche looked up to see Guy storming over to her. The people cleared a path at once, knowing better than to stand in the way of the demonic lord. Gabrielle paused in mid-run to observe the scene before her. Psyche allowed herself to be led away by Guy, she did not even give Gabrielle a second look.

As Psyche was taken back inside the castle, the gates were closed as the people crowded around it, calling out the seer's name in frantic admiration. "I heard shouting. What's going on?" Marian called as she ran out from one of the wagons, wrapping a shawl about her shoulders.

"It was Psyche," Gabrielle explained, voice distant with curiosity, "She was coming out of the castle when the people overtook her."

Marian swore and turned to ready herself for a rescue. Gabrielle stayed her with a gentle pull upon her arm, "But it is alright now. She's quite safe, I think."

"You think?"

Gabrielle nodded, "I was going to help her when the man in black came and made the people back away. He took Psyche back into the castle."

"The...man in black?" Marian looked to the castle gates and at the crowd of people there. A pang of jealousy circulated through her veins at the thought; why would Guy have risked a mob to rescue Psyche? And why would Psyche have gone so willingly with him?

Back inside the castle halls, Guy led Psyche back to her chambers. He hurried her along at a rushed pace, hearing her breath catch in her throat as she struggled to breathe. Psyche tore at her cloak and pulled it off of her as soon as she was back inside the safety of the stone walled chamber. She felt as if she would faint. All of those hands; reaching for her, grabbing her skirts and her sleeves. They had been so close, too close.

"Water," she managed to gasp.

Guy took the pitcher of water and filled the goblet beside the bed. It was practically snatched out of his hands as she drank from it with a child's greedy relish. She placed the goblet down once more, wiping her mouth across her sleeve. Her breathing slowed significantly.

"Your glove is torn," Guy said after a moment of silence had passed between them.

Psyche's returning calm vanished as she looked down at the ruined glove. A huge gash greeted her vision so that she was staring down at her own exposed palm. She covered it with her other hand and pushed it away from her sight. When she had a hold over her senses once more she spoke to her rescuer. "Thank you," she croaked.

Seeing that she was still shaking Guy kicked the legs of a chair to divert her attention to it. "Sit," he grunted.

She did so, thanking him again. "You may go," she said, her voice regaining its firmness.

Guy turned to leave, but Psyche called him back, "No...no wait...you may stay with me if you wish." She was surprised that he chose to take her up on the offer.

"Does that happen to you often?" He asked as he sat in the seat opposite her.

"The crowds? Sometimes, when I am particularly liberal in my performances...or when I am perceived to be the subject of special attention." She gestured around her, but could not summon a joking smile. "It gives the populace an impression that I am more prophetic than they think."

"But you _are_ prophetic."

Psyche banged her fist upon the table, "I am not a God!"

"No, you are a woman, but a woman in possession of a gift."

"A curse," Psyche rebuked, "Most women are capable of walking across a busy street in order to see their friends, are they not? Most women are allowed to speak their minds without letting slip knowledge that is not another's to hear, or to possess?" her voice was rising to a fever pitch, "Most women do not dream constantly of..." Her face grew ashen and she fell silent, slumping forward into her seat.

Psyche laughed at Guy's silence. When her eyes rose upwards to meet his she found herself locked in a haunted, yet gentle gaze. Usually when she saw him in her dreams his eyes had been filled with bloodlust and hatred. Even in the waking world she only ever saw the spinning circles of madness dilating in his stares. She had never seen any trace of gentleness.

"My troubles are not your own," she said, chiding herself, "You need not concern yourself with understanding them."

"Perhaps," Guy said softly, "I am to help you, as you will help me?"

"How could you help me?" She winced at her own harshness.

"I do not know, but...ever since you have been in Nottingham, I have...my mind has been clearer," Psyche could see the struggle Guy had in voicing such a weakness of soul. She could not help but smile.

His hand was upon the table, and she saw how he was inching to touch her again. One instant of human touch and he was already aching for more. Psyche knew it was not out of any amount of friendship that he was behaving thusly. She was a cure for his madness and grief. That was all. But this did not stop her from taking her own hand and placing it upon his. There was safety in the mutual touch of clothed hands. She swallowed the thought that perhaps she desired touch more than he did in this instance.

Slowly, she pulled the leather glove off of his hand. She felt his look of astonishment at her bold effort. He clutched her velvet hand before she could summon the ability to pull away. The sudden warmth alarmed her and she instantly regretted her decision.

"You've never been touched?" He asked her again, knowing the answer full well.

"No. You told me I was lucky in that," Psyche's voice trembled as he turned her hand over so that his fingers nearly grazed the torn cloth on her palm.

Guy shook his head. "I lied. To have no one is to live in hell."

He pinched the cloth just above her fingertip and pulled it lightly. The velvet slid across her hand, caressing pale olive skin. Air brushed against fingertips used to being kept shielded from such things. The glove left her with a silent, delicate scrape. Psyche's hand lay on the wooden table, and even that course material supplied a myriad of wonders.

Guy slid his hand under hers and held her, the skin he touched was of an impossible softness. There was an instant feel of possession, knowing that this powerful and feared woman that had never belonged to anyone; never even been touched, was suddenly his. He claimed her through more accident than purpose.

White exploded in Psyche's vision at the first feel of another's skin against her own. She steeled herself from the onslaught of pain which she knew must follow. All the agony she was so accustomed to feeling from the man would soon pour out into her like it always did in her dreams. For a moment there was a rush of the indescribable; emotions too jumbled together to be discernible raced past her. Then it settled, like silt falling to the bottom of the ocean, and a warmth settled in the pit of her stomach. She had not realized she had closed her eyes until she once more opened them.

She looked at her hand in his. He had placed his remaining gloved hand over theirs, completely covering her. She pulled her hand away from him, bringing it close to her chest. "I don't understand..." she whispered, regaining her voice, "there was no pain."

"You expected it to be so?" Guy asked her.

"That is what I was taught. It is why I never..." Psyche had to silence herself before her voice cracked. "You should go."

Guy rose from his seat, "You did not leave me," he stood before her, holding out his hand for hers, "I will not go."

His words had a way of reaching down into her to pull at affection she did not know she possessed. His insistence startled her. She took his hand and allowed him to help her up. "Where are you taking me?"

"Just to walk with me." Because she calmed him and brought pieces of his sanity back to him for brief moments.

"You think to try and understand my gift? How I work?" she questioned.

"No. I've seen the seer, and I am learning how your gift works. I wish to know the woman now." Guy asked as he took her arm and looped it about his own. "And I wish for you to know me as well, Psyche."

He said her name as he would that of any casual friend. In that moment, Psyche would have walked with him straight to the edge of the world. She allowed him to hold her as they walked. She could feel the serenity in him, blocking out the rage and torment still swimming just beneath the surface of his soul. She had done that. She smiled at him, feeling safe against him, "I would like that very much, Guy."

* * *

**A/N: You have no idea how much I've been DYING to write this scene. Since I STARTED this story! And it's only going to get better from here. Lots more still to come. A little love, a little angst, you know how it goes. :) Do leave a review as always! **


	23. Possession

XVIII

Possession

Guy led Psyche out past the Castle gates, even though it was well past evening, he remembered well the events of that afternoon, and he had no desire to see them repeated. Thank God he had been there, or else she might very well have been assaulted by the peoples' passions. He clutched the woman to him and was pleased that she did not move away. She would only do that with him now. No one else could touch her, no one else would have the privilege of knowing this woman. While Psyche was with him all thoughts and memories which had long since plagued him dropped from his mind. She was a balm for his past insanities.

As they had walked she spoke with him, trying to understand him as a man. It was more than anyone had done for him; man or woman. She grew silent when he reflected upon Marian, yes he could say her name before Psyche, she made the pain bearable. She had tightened her grip on him, as if to reel him in from the abyss itself. When she only whispered that he must forgive himself for what he had done, and that she could not damn him for it, absolution washed over him. Perhaps, not in the form he would have wished, but the words that another human could look at him, not with pity, and not with condemnation in their eyes, but understanding. Oh, that was everything.

"You do not have to go," he said for the third time since he had brought her from the Castle, "You could see your people tomorrow, surely?"

"They will be worried for me," Psyche said, "They only saw me nearly become overpowered by that mob. I owe them peace of mind at least. I will be back to the Castle before long tomorrow."

Guy still proceeded to walk with her until she was at the very step to her wagon. Her hand was still clasped tightly in his, neither had a desire to be the first to part. "I need to leave you now," Psyche whispered.

"Please do not," Guy said.

She smiled, "Careful, you will sound as tragic as a poet and then I shall not be able to take you seriously."

"When will I see you again?" He asked her.

"I told you, in the morning."

"No, you will find yourself distracted with matters here."

"Oh? So now you are the seer?" Psyche released her hand from his, and resisted the urge to caress away the lines of worry from his face. "When I decide upon something it is woe to anyone who stops me and I have decided to see you in the morning. Content yourself with that knowledge and leave to my own rest." If only he knew that she would be with him in his dreams that night...

He cupped her head in his hands and stole the breath from her lungs with an impassioned kiss. He let his lips linger upon her own, coaxing her less experienced mouth to move with his. She was quick to the study. Her body stood frozen against this new touch, which shot a line of fire straight into the center of her.

"Now it is a promise," Guy said upon parting from her. Did he fully know what he had done?

Psyche could not speak. He left her in this fashion to stand in shock at his retreating form. Her fingers moved to her lips, tracing them in mute astonishment. She fell back against the door, her hand fumbling for the handle as a giddy laugh trickled out of her. It was silenced immediately at a word from beside her.

"You have come back I see?" Mariel moved like a wraith in the darkness. Her shrouded form a source of further shock to the already rattled woman.

"Mariel!" She choked at how juvenile her tone was, "I was merely..."

"Tarrying too long in matters best left out of our hands," Mariel remarked for her. "Get that door open, child, I would have words with you tonight."

Moving like the chided girl she was, Psyche opened the door to her wagon and stepped inside, Mariel following behind her. She took the liberty of shutting the door. Taking up a match upon the small wooden stand she lit the single candle and laid it to rest on its metal holder. Mariel frowned in the glow light and pointed her walking stick to the state of Psyche's dress. "You are missing a glove,"

"It is only on my nightstand back at the Castle," Psyche covered her bare hand with her remaining gloved one, feeling as vulnerable as if she were in a complete state of undress.

"Since when do you go walking without your gloves fully on? And since when do you entertain men as charmingly as that?" Mariel snapped.

"Mariel, you are only looking with your eyes. Guy of Gisborne is not merely a means into the Castle, whatever Marian and Robin would have you believe." Psyche's smile bordered on the ecstatic. "He is the man I have been envision these past five years."

"And that gives you proper excuse to have him so near to you?"

Psyche was taken aback by Mariel's relevant indifference to this fact. "Did you not hear? I said he is the man you have been begging me to seek out. I have found him. He is mine."

"Oh, he is most certainly not yours, my child."

"Then he will be!" Psyche burned at the slight, "I have begun to know him, Mariel, and we are of the same mind. I care for him as I have never cared for anyone in my life."

"You were meant only to heal him, not love him, foolish girl! This man should not be yours. He belongs to another and you know this!" Mariel reminded with equal severity.

"Marian is dead to him!" Psyche cried in pitiful defiance, "I am flesh and blood. He could care for me as well. He has proven that he wants to."

"That is only while Marian remains a ghost to him."

Mariel's worlds caused dark thoughts to swamp Psyche's senses. She saw Marian standing over Guy as he wept at her feet with his arms about her waist. She saw the tears fall from both their eyes. And she could see their lips meet, and feel the anguish and the ecstasy at the connection. "No!" Psyche wailed, "I am the seer! I control the fates and the future. I say this will not happen!"

"You can no more stop the future than I can." Mariel said.

"You are an old woman, your time has passed. You said I had more power in me than any seer you had ever met before," Psyche snarled, "I have accepted such a gift and I have cared for this man for these five long, miserable years. This is my right!"

"There can be no right over another man's soul. You'll condemn yourself to a life of misery. He is not yours." Mariel slammed the tip of her walking stick against the floor of the wagon. "See that I only want your protection."

"No you do not," Psyche spat, fury in her eyes, "You have never cared for me, old woman. You have raised me for my power and called me your precious one for it. Now that I have a man who looks at me as if I were an _ordinary_ woman and cares for me as if I had a heart and soul, not visions and predictions, you must take that from me. You will not."

"Psyche, that is not true." Mariel reached for her granddaughter, but before she could place her arms about her she stopped and retracted her arms, much to Psyche's proven derision.

"You see? You do not care for me. I have learned that touch is not so vile as to be avoided. Against all of your training. It does not burn or hurt, but it is a warmth. Guy is not afraid to take me and hold me when he so chooses and I would rather have a life of warmth than be feared and untouched." Psyche turned her back on Mariel, "Leave me now, tomorrow I will perform as expected and then I will return to the Castle. Be assured I will seek out the money Robin and Marian so need, I have not forgotten they are my friends. But I will stay with Guy for as long as he so desires me, at least there I am not an object of worth, but a being of value."

"Still so blind," Mariel muttered under her breath as she left the furious woman to her own musings, "I pray it will not be too late for you to see."

***

"You are smiling," Gabrielle remarked as she trailed after Psyche.

The performance had gone smoothly, although it had run on longer than expected. The crowd had seemed to multiply over night. Joshua had flitted through the crowds collecting coins, the old pickpocket now having riches handed to him upfront. Mariel watched with less amusement, worried that the crowd might turn sour against Psyche, or mob her again at the conclusion of the performance. Luckily, none had occurred, the populace aware of exactly what kind of protection this seer was under. They had no desire to press their fortune.

"I am not allowed a smile?" Psyche retorted, practically skipping down the steps leading away from the stage.

"Never after a performance...and one so long as this one! Mariel sent me after you because she thought you'd be exhausted and in need of aid."

"Mariel is not always right," Psyche said, her humor not failing her even as she reflected on her previous conversation with the old woman.

"So...you are well?" Gabrielle pestered, hurrying to keep up with Psyche as she made her way back to her wagon.

"Quite." Came the reassuring response.

"Then...shall I leave you?" Gabrielle hoped that the answer would not be a refusal that she could foresee coming. She had hardly seen Psyche these past few days, and ever since they had come to Nottingham she had changed. Psyche had always cared for the Players, placing them above herself in everything. Gabrielle had selfishly thought herself Psyche's favorite; both she and Joshua. They were given the honor of riding with her in her wagon from time to time, been privy to some of her secrets, and been taught her magic skills in observation. Gabrielle could feel that attachment fading now. Psyche would not even grace her with a second glance. She seemed to be too busy scanning the dispersing crowd.

Recalling that someone had spoken to her, Psyche opened her mouth to reply in the negative when the object of her searches finally appeared. "Guy!" She called out as she saw him heading towards her. Would it be appropriate for her to move herself and close the gap? What if he chose to take her in his arms? She had never been embraced before. She imagined she would feel quite safe locked tight in those arms.

"That was quite the interesting performance," Guy said as he approached her.

"I thought I saw you in the crowd," Psyche said, her voice loosing its hard edged, natural quality. Giving way, instead, to a light purr.

"In one of such a size? Now I truly am impressed," Guy smirked, noting the blush appearing on her cheeks as he caught her in her actions of spying for him.

"Shall I just...go then?" Gabrielle asked again, more annoyed than ever before as she stared up at this outsider. Contempt smeared her features.

"Yes...yes..." Psyche said absentmindedly, "I'll catch up..." she did not even notice when her younger companion stormed away in a huff.

With the presence of the young child no longer a shadow over them, Guy dropped his congenial tone. "Psyche..." again the troubled tone of the half-healed man, "last night I...I was not myself. I did not mean to...that is...I hadn't..."

"Oh," Psyche lowered her head, "No, no there is no need to apologize."

"I hope you have not found my...actions...offensive," Guy said.

"I took no offensive from them at all," Psyche replied, feeling rather foolish for her former giddiness. "Is that all that you came to tell me? If so, I must go, the Prince is expecting me..."

"Wait, you are upset."

"I am not. I must go, I am in a hurry as it is..."

Guy grabbed her arm, "Not until you tell me the truth."

"There is nothing to tell," Psyche said, her voice low as she tried to pull her arm out of Guy's grasp. "I did not find your behavior last night to be at all offensive, there is clearly nothing else of note to say. Now, if you will excuse me..."

"At least let me walk with you to the Castle," Guy said, refusing to release his hold about her arm.

Psyche did not want to walk with Guy to the Castle. She did not want to engage in another turn where they would talk and she would learn more about him and find herself just that more in love with him. She wanted him to repeat his actions last night, not discard them. What a little fool she had been! Thinking of embraces and kisses just like some love-sick girl. What had made her think this man would look at her twice when he had the memory of Marian to cling to?

"Fine," she replied. Walking was better than nothing, she concluded. She gave her arm freely and let him escort her back to the Castle. She had never felt so small in her entire life. She had been reduced to an ill tempered girl and she was no such minutiae force. She straightened her spine, but found she still could not summon up the courage to look the man beside her in the eye. Not without feeling her knees buckle once more beneath her and reduce her to a spiritless mound of quivering flesh.

Another watched the pair depart for the Castle. Jealous eyes with barely concealed longing stared off after the two. Marian, felt her heart sink at Psyche and Guy's interaction. She had seen how Psyche had lowered her head and turned coyly away from him at his approach. And she saw how eager and attentive Guy was to Psyche's sudden change in mood; how reluctant he had been to part with her. She was not blind. By far the most startling revelation was the sight of Guy placing his arm about Psyche's. Not even she had dared touch her. How had Guy, after a few days in acquaintance, been given such an impossible privilege?

"What are you looking at?" Robin asked, sneaking up behind her and pulling her into his arms. He nuzzled her neck, placing a few kisses down the line of sensitive skin.

Marian swallowed her impure thoughts of jealousy and want of another man's hands upon her body. She succumbed to the urges of her husband, tilting her head back at his insistent kisses. "Nothing important," she said with a thin smile.

She closed her eyes as she kissed him, trying hard not to place the image of the Black Knight before that of the Outlaw.

***

"You wished to see me Sire?" Psyche announced as she was led into the Prince's chambers.

"Indeed," Prince John said, rising from his chair as Psyche entered the room. He gestured for her to take the seat closest to him. An action, which did not go unnoticed by Sheriff Vaysey. "There is a matter of high importance I would consult you on."

Psyche sat down, "Ah, the issue of what to do with the ransom money. A heavy subject for a morning such as this one." She smiled at the two astounded men as she leaned back against the chair, folding her hands in her lap and crossing her ankles, forcing herself to maintain a ridged posture, so that she was as close to eye level as possible.

"I should I have guessed you would have already known of our conversation." The Prince seemed in a good humor as he laughed at Psyche's preemptive statement. Psyche grinned as well, realizing she was close to over stepping her boundaries. The Prince was not a man who enjoyed being beaten to the point. She nodded for him to explain to her the details of the situation and kept her wagging tongue silent.

"The money itself is of a large sum, as you are well aware. It is merely a matter of where to place it. Valuables stored in Nottingham have a habit of disappearing at a moment's notice," the Prince shot a glance in the Sheriff's direction, "and I need to be assured of it's absolute secrecy."

"Perhaps, if it is secrecy we are after we should not informing this woman of this affair; with respect, Sire," Vaysey said, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the arm rest of his chair.

"I have no desire to take your money," Psyche informed the Sheriff, "I have no need of it and make quite enough to live comfortably as it is, my lord." It was not exactly lie. She, after all, would have no part in the actual talking of the money. Her face never wavered as she spoke directly to the snake of a man. "But, Sheriff Vaysey has made a decent point," she conceded, "why inform me?"

"Naturally, to be assured that no one will attempt to steal away the money," Prince John said.

"I am honored, Sire, to be held in such high regard," Psyche said. "Where does the money reside currently?"

"In the strong room, and Vaysey suggests that I leave it there under lock and key."

Psyche could not restrain the breath of laughter, "That would be a foolish error, Sire."

Vaysey jumped forward in his chair, and Psyche winced against the onslaught of images of his hands wrapped about her throat while he slowly strangled the life out of her. "The strong room is where any outlaw would first go to look for valuables of any sort," Psyche said with a muffled gasp.

"That is _precisely _what I have been saying!" The Prince crowed.

"It would be far better to hide the money in a location that no one would ever suspect. The stables perhaps, or the cellars."

"In plain view? Where any man might seize it?" Vaysey scoffed. "We might as well had the money over to Hood."

"Not if one takes a view creative liberties," Psyche stated. She looked to the Prince for permission to explain her plan. It was given freely, "Take the cellars for instance. If one were to empty two or three barrels and hide the money there, what outlaw would think to search them?"

"You do not know Hood, girl," Vaysey snarled.

"Set up a decoy in the strong room. With the usual guard. Under all pretenses let the whole of the shire believe you are storing whatever you like there. Not even Hood has the ability to foresee such a thing, I am sure," Psyche said.

"No...unless he has one who has as much foresight as you do," Vaysey said.

"My lord," Psyche nodded her head respectfully, "if I had plans on notifying such outlaws of plans to rob you why would I tell you where to place your money knowing full well that I would be the one most suspect if they were to go missing?" Clearly, because she did not intend to still be near their clutches once the inevitable occurred. She smiled.

"Yes, come now Vaysey, don't let your paranoia damn us all," Prince John said. "Psyche's plan has merit. You do not foresee the money being taken do you?"

"No...if it is hidden in time." Her words of warning proved to be enough to alarm the Prince into action. This was too easy. The Prince was willing to concede to any well thought out scheme. The Sheriff was far more cunning, if only he knew how true his aim had been as he guessed at her true motives. Psyche would do well to avoid that man while she still stayed within the walls of the Castle. She could not help but think of what he would desire to do with her if he caught her alone.

"If that is all, Sire? I will gladly leave you to your work." Psyche rose from her chair.

Prince John gave her leave to go and Psyche departed from the chambers, out into the quiet of the hallway beyond. She passed by a half opened door and backed up, she thought she had seen Guy inside. She was shocked to find that she had been right. She stepped forward and peered inside through the sizable crack in the door. The door creaked on it's rusted hinges when Psyche accidentally placed a hand upon it to steady herself. She gave a gasp and pulled away, but she already alerted the man to her presence.

"Psyche?" Guy said, sitting up from the bed he had been lying upon.

Caught without a decent alibi for herself, Psyche floundered for words. "I was...I hadn't meant to disturb you. The door was...open..."

"Wait!" He called for her as he hurried to stop her before she ran off in her embarrassment. He opened the door for her to enter.

Psyche knew at once where she was the moment she stepped in fully. Marian's room. Memories of her filtered through the place and the sorrow which accompanied it nearly knocked her over. "I can't stay," she whispered.

"Why not?" Guy asked, oblivious to the torment running through the woman.

"I did not mean to disturb you. I apologize." Oh, anything to leave this horrid place!

"You have been avoiding me all day," Guy growled, shutting the door to block Psyche's exit, "Can you not see that I have wanted you with me?"

Was that true? She could not think clearly, could barely see. "I...I..."

"Stay with me for a while." The desperation for normalcy was heavy in his tone. And now there was a fierce longing for possession to compound the air of nightmares in the clouded room.

"No! No!" Psyche shouted, the fibre of her resolve coming undone, "I can not stay here. Not in this room. Not in _her_ room!" She fumbled for the handle of the door before pushing it open and rushing, gasping into the free air outside.

She pulled at the ties of her cloak, the weight of it choking her as she did her best not to cry before him. "You knew?" Came his quiet words.

"So much misery...I could see every instance of suffering in there. I can not _bear_ it. You should not go in there. How can you?"

Guy pulled the woman into his arms, suddenly becoming her comforter. Psyche's pained gasps ceased slowly as she leaned against him. "I am sorry," she said once she gained control of her voice, "I have been behaving selfishly."

"So have I," Guy said, "I did not know how much you felt as I did...that you understood."

"What I feel does not matter," Psyche said, strictly business once more as she pulled away from him.

"It matters to me," Guy said in a low tone.

"I am here to help you!" Psyche reminded him.

"Are you? And are you doing so because some force of fate has led you to believe that is what you must do? Or are you here to help me because you wish to," Guy said.

"I..." Psyche knew the answer before she had to think of it. She stared up at Guy, who glared at her accusingly, arms folded in place of holding her. "I am not supposed to care for you...but I want you to stop hurting, I--"

The kiss he gave her elicited a cry of frustration from Psyche. "You do not care for me!"

"But I want to..." Guy whispered.

"I am not Marian..."

She heard the breath of pain in his voice as she spoke that name, "No...but you are real. Flesh and blood and no one has ever spoken to me as you have done. Let me know you, Psyche...please, you restore me." Another kiss.

"You mean that?" He wished to care for her?

"I do."

"No one has ever..."

Guy hushed her, "I understand." He knew what such a word could mean to one who had been forever misunderstood. The disbelieving smile she gave him lit his heart as he hoped it would. Yes, he could care for her. He held her in his arms. She could banish the demons of his past and breathe life back into his soul. Oh yes, he mused again as he rocked her in his arms, believing that he could feel her loneliness and misery; similar haunts of his own, leave her body, yes he could come to care for her very much.

From down the corridor, safely hidden behind one of the many stone archways, Sheriff Vaysey looked on upon the sight of his Master-At-Arms and the meddlesome Seer with utmost satisfaction.

* * *

**A/N: And the plot continues to thicken. Mwahaha! **

**Hope you all are enjoying this story. As always, I appreciate your feedback. :) **


	24. Vulnerability

XXIV

Vulnerability

Marian sucked in breath at a rapid rate and clutched the edges of one of the wagons as if her very life depended upon it. She was certain she would come away with splinters, as she could feel the uneven wood cut into her palm. She cared not for the pin-pricks of pain. She cared only for the abominable sight before her eyes.

Psyche walked boldly through the evening square with Guy at her side. And Marian found she could not bear the look of contentment upon Guy's face. He had an arm about Psyche, holding her in that possessive way he had often tried to hold Marian. She had often danced out of his grasp, always pushing him away; his touch too frightening. How he used to stare longingly at her when she did such things! Marian had almost enjoyed the games she used to play with Guy, tormenting though they were to him, at times she was not altogether certain if she had been equally as confused herself.

Marian thought the wood would crack beneath her fingers. Psyche had turned her head—and Marian was certain there was a smug little smile on her lips—and nuzzled against Guy, pressing kisses against the base of his neck, just where skin met leather. She clung to him as if she had been his lover all her life. And Guy seemed to desire her attentions as if he had adored her for all of his! Impossible.

He was whispering to her. Marian could not make out what he was saying, but judging from the ever increasing smile upon Psyche's face it could only be words of a gentle nature. What could be possibly have to say to her? _Be with me_; Marian recalled how Guy had pleaded for just a moment with her, how even the smallest and most reluctant of kisses seemed to sustain him for an entire day. Or, rather, was he pleading with her not to leave him? _Stay and make this place bearable_. Yes, he was always quite good at persuading her to remain with him, as if the very sight of her was enough to bring purpose to his miserable life.

Psyche laughed and interrupted Guy's whispered litany with a kiss. He laughed as well, and Marian burned with jealousy at Psyche's ability to bring out one of his rare moments of happiness. Marian had to duck quickly behind the wagon as the pair approached the very door.

"Must I leave you?" Guy asked.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to," Psyche replied. "You know very well you can not stay here."

"Why not?" Guy kissed the side of her neck, causing Psyche to shudder as he nipped at the sensitive skin.

Psyche placed a hand upon his shoulder, "Because I guarantee we will be caught together." The breathless and distracted tone in her voice only furthered Marian's jealousy.

"Now that would be dangerous," Guy was not letting up, and Marian could see Psyche's legs buckling as Guy pressed his advantage. "Perhaps we should test exactly," he grinned as Psyche cut him off with a stifled groan, "how much trouble we could get into."

He had her pinned against the door. Psyche's arms were about him, pressing him close to her. She looked as if she would give into Guy's demands. Her head was tilted back, and her eyes were closed; lips curved in a satisfied smile. "Oh..." then her eyes opened, "No..." she said, pushing him away with gentle hands.

"Psyche..."

"No, Guy, we can't. Not here."

"You are a cruel temptress."

"I believe you are the only tempter here, Guy," Psyche managed a laugh. "Now, please, go before you are seen."

Marian would have laughed aloud at that if she could have.

"Tomorrow, I expect to finish what we have started here," Guy growled, allowing himself one more kiss.

"Go!" Psyche urged.

Guy left with the greatest reluctance, often stealing glances back at her as he went, smirking as he noticed that Psyche had no plans of leaving until he was out of sight. He walked slower for that purpose. Psyche waved him away, laughter on her lips. As soon as he was gone from sight, Psyche retired to her bed.

Marian waited for a suitable amount of time to pass before she knocked upon Psyche's door. The groan from within only furthered Marian's rising intolerance, "Guy! I told you, you need to..." the door opened. "Marian! I..."

"Not expecting me, I see?" She tried her best to keep her voice surprised and light-hearted.

"No...that is...I was..."

"We waited for you all evening. Distracted with matters at the Castle I take it?" Marian asked.

"Yes," Psyche cleared her voice, "I tried to come sooner, but it proved impossible. There have been several new developments. I intended to share all of them as soon as possible."

Marian felt her pride singe at the secret meaning behind those words and the lack of explicit truth. "Did you? Well, Robin and the others are still awake. You can brief us now."

"Excellent idea," Psyche agreed far too readily, eager to appease her friend. "The sooner I do the sooner this can all be over and done with."

"Yes," Marian said as she followed Psyche out of her wagon, "I believe that will be best for everyone."

***

Psyche had explained herself twice over and the resulting commotion of questions was beginning to give her headache. She rubbed at her temples as she sat around in the open square with Robin and his gang, Mariel, Joshua, and Gabrielle.

"And Prince John said...for certain now, that he would do exactly as you suggested?" Robin asked.

"_Yes,_" Psyche said. "He intends to place a decoy in the strongroom and the real ransom money in the cellar. How many more times must I state this until you are satisfied?"

"It's too easy." Allan's voice was cause for brief silence. The man shrugged, "Think about it. I mean, say the Prince did as Psyche said and placed the money in the cellars. What's t' say there ain't a trap waiting for us when we go t' get it? Or what if it's just another decoy there as well."

All eyes looked to Psyche. "What do you want me to do about that? If I ask him questions over such a matter he will become suspicious. The man is not so much of a fool as you all would like to think."

"I could sneak in and check if the money is in the cellars," Joshua volunteered, his hand raised so that he might be given permission to speak.

"Absolutely not," Psyche said, "I do not want you anywhere near the Castle when Robin goes to collect the money, do you hear me?"

"What about a decoy of our own?" Djaq suggested, "Create a disturbance away from the cellars...divide our forces. Half of us to the strongroom the other to the cellars. The guards will be waiting for us to rob one of the rooms anyway. If the alarm is raised on the team that attacks the strongroom, it leaves the others free to get the money undetected."

"That is all well and good," Tuck said, "but you have not considered the most important part."

"What?"

"The Prince will know how the money came to be missing, and considering it will only be he, the Sheriff, and Psyche who knew of the money's true whereabouts in the first place; how long do you think it will take for him to surmise that Psyche was our informant from the start?"

"Have no fear for my safety," Psyche scoffed, "I believe the Players will be well on our way out of England by the time you intend to steal the money."

"That would be quite a feat, even if you left this very minute, which if you did would place the entire plan under high suspicion. The Prince will not let you escape so easily after foiling his last attempt to see that his brother remains a captive," Tuck stated, to the paling faces of the few Players sitting around him.

Psyche was the only one who did not seem much affected, "Then don't take the money. It does not matter one way or the other. Prince John keeps the money in case his plans fall through. For now he bribes your King's captors to keep him in his prison for as long as possible. If you free King Richard tomorrow or ten years from now it won't make a bit of difference as to the outcome."

"You are speaking in riddles again, Psyche, you know you are the only one who understands the meaning of your words," Marian said, folding her arms.

"Prince John will be King of England. The King's return only delays the matter of when." Psyche looked at the stunned faces around her. "You asked for the truth. Do not turn on me for speaking it."

"You are wrong," Robin said, breathing hard as he pointed a finger at her. "Why should we believe what you tell us? The future can always be changed!"

Feeling very much the hypocrite as she stared down both Robin and Marian, Psyche said, "The future can _never_ be changed. What is set is set." Images of Marian entwined with Guy caused her to lose her focus, and almost her balance. She steadied herself and tried to shake away the dreaded image.

"So that's it then," Robin said.

"I have given you every opportunity to accomplish your goal. It is not my fault if you do not take the risks to achieve it," Psyche said with a shrug.

Mariel, who had been sitting in silence throughout the meeting, concluded the night's affairs with two, sharp raps of her walking stick upon the ground. "That is all for the night. There is nothing else to be done, and tired minds make for rash actions. Sleep on these issues, tomorrow we can plan on how best to proceed."

It was hard to argue, everyone was feeling their own exhaustion in some way. Even Psyche could feel it all the way into her bones, giving her a sense of age. She felt as if she should be the one hunched over with a walking stick instead of Mariel. She watched as Robin and Marian retired together, hand in hand, and she was reminded of Guy's hand in her own and the feel of him pressed so close against her as he begged her not force him to leave her. God, how she had not wanted him to go! She ignored the shudder which traveled down her spine as she made her way to her wagon.

The time would be coming soon when she would have to leave. She could not afford to stay for much longer, and after Robin stole the money she would be forced to disappear. She would need to make the most of what little time she had left.

***

"Gisborne, I've noticed you've decided to rejoin the world of the living. Congratulations," Vaysey snapped as Guy entered his chambers.

"My lord..."

"What do you think of the current arrangements?" He asked, referring to the issue of moving the ransom money from the strongroom.

"I would not have moved the money out of the strongroom," Guy said. "Too risky."

"Well, risky or otherwise the Prince is decided upon it. It seems there's very little he does unless his new faithful seer has the final say in the matter," Vaysey said, feigning disinterest, but quietly noting the subtle reaction from Guy. "Speaking of which, did you know it was she who suggested we move the money in the first place?"

"No I did not, my lord."

"What do you think of that? Suspicious? Shall we put it past her capabilities that she's working for our enemies?"

Vaysey could see how each of his words stung the man. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Do you want to know what I think?" he asked as she removed himself from his chair behind his desk and crossed the room. "I think she's a spy, Gisborne. I think she's working for Robin Hood."

"Has she done anything to make herself worthy of such accusations?" Guy asked.

"_Wake up, Gisborne!_" Vaysey shouted, "Did your compassion return as well as your sanity? I would not have you lose focus. The woman has her hand in every one of the Prince's plans and I want them cut off."

"What would you have me do with her?" Guy stood in dreaded silence as the Sheriff deliberated. When he saw the light of a plan forming in his eyes he almost could not bear to hear what he knew would be spoken.

"Let's catch her at her own game, shall we?"

"Pardon?"

"Spy on the spy, Gisborne, hm?" Vaysey laughed, "Send one of your men out to follow her about when she leaves the Castle. Have him report back to me on where she goes, who she speaks to...all of it."

Guy exhaled with relief. That was all? That he could do. "Yes, my lord." He turned to do his master's bidding.

"Oh, and Gisborne...if I receive any word that she has been with Hood, even if she has accidentally passed him in the street. I will see her swing."

Guy left the Sheriff's chambers with a heavy heart, that not moments ago had felt lighter than it had in months. Psyche was no ordinary woman, and Guy found it hard to believe she would be working with Robin Hood. She wasn't a charlatan, she knew things; strange and terrible things.

He went to go and fetch one of his guards. There would be no harm in having her followed for a few days. If she was innocent it would put his heart at ease forever, and the Sheriff would eventually loose interest in her. But if she was guilty...no, no, he would not think of that! He must remember the last time he let his suspicions get the better of him. His head pounded as he tried to force down his paranoia. True, it was not the same as it had been with Marian. He had loved her with his very life. Psyche could not be more different. He cared for her, in time, he reasoned, he might even learn to love her, but it would not destroy him. But in his fragile sanity even the slightest slip might send him tumbling back into the abyss once more.

The doors to the courtyard open before he could reach for the handle. "Oh!" A familiar voice exclaimed, "What fortuitous timing."

Indeed, Guy looked down at the shadow cloaked woman. She removed her hood with a smile that significantly brightened her dark appearance. "Looking for me?" He asked.

"Of course," Psyche said, kissing him by way of a greeting. She lowered her voice as she followed him outside, "I could think of nothing else all last night."

"That was your punishment for sending me away," Guy joked.

"Well then, let me not make such an error again."

Guy kissed her, but it was not with the same amount of fervor as yesterday. He tried to still his rising doubts, knowing that Psyche seemed to be sensitive to his own emotions. For her he smiled, it seemed to be enough to block her from any unnecessary prying. She took his arm in hers and walked beside him. Guy sighed, why could life never be simple for once?

***

"No offense, lady, but ya are rather...old in years." The steward remarked to the elderly woman.

Mariel let the comment roll off of her back, "Old I may be, my young man, but I assure you, you will find no one more capable of tending to such scullery duties than myself."

"If ya say so...I swear, I think I've seen you before. Ain't ya that woman in charge o' the band o' players?" The steward asked.

Mariel snorted, "That's the third time today I've been mistaken for that woman. Listen, do I have a job? My family can't afford for you to stand here dithering over a simple yes or no forever."

"Aye, suppose ya'd be a right ol' tough worker, and we need someone to get the young girls in line; been slacken off on their duties, let me tell you. Think ya can handle overseeing them?"

"I'll make them tremble in their skirts, right enough," Mariel replied with a thin-lipped smile.

"Good. Then I'll be expecting you tomorrow."

"I'll be here."

Mariel left the castle with all due haste after her hastily constructed meeting with the steward. She was glad the man had had so few doubts, he must have been desperate to find extra help. She was worried she was going to have had to have put up much more of a fight than that. Luckily it had all worked out, so far according to her plans. She would not be missed for a few days, not while Robin was there to look out for the Players, and even though Psyche was currently distracted, it would not last long. Not now. She only had a few days to memorize the layout of the castle and get the ransom money out of the cellars. She hoped Robin and the others did not act out of turn and ruin it all. If they sacrificed her granddaughter over the well-being of their King she would bring hell upon them. This way was better, quieter, simpler. She wouldn't be surprised if she had the ransom money out of the castle by this time two or three days hence. Mariel shared a private, grim smile. Everything was going according to plan. Now to make sure that everything played out to its proper end.

As she walked back to the town square she stole a glance up at the mid-morning sun. Today would be long day. She saw Marian helping Gabrielle with the rigging of the stage. Such a good girl, really, it was a shame she had become tangled with their affairs. She glanced back at the castle. Such a shame it was...

The day ran according to Mariel's prediction. It had been a long one, and come that very evening Psyche emerged from the Prince's chambers rubbing tired eyes. How many times did she have to repeat herself? She had started becoming creative with her fortunes now, wanting to stay in Prince John's good graces. It was rather easy to do now that she had gained the Prince's trust. He readily believed everything she had to say, and since she always tinged her lies with words of truth it was impossible to differentiate the two.

"I thought I would see you back to your camp," Guy said as she shut the door leading out into the empty corridor. Psyche nearly jumped with surprise.

"Oh...yes, I would like that very much." Psyche fell into step alongside the man, always delighting in being so near to him. It was a shame she had to leave him. It was the only tolerable part of coming and going from the Castle in this awful game.

They walked in silence, Psyche could sense that something was troubling Guy, but he doing a very good job of keeping most of his thoughts silent from her. Was he catching on to how her ability worked, or was he denying something from himself? "Are you all right, Guy?" she asked as gently took his hand in hers.

"I am well," he said, "why shouldn't I be?"

Psyche had no answer for that. They continued walking, but she did not let go of his hand. "Guy...I do not not want to go back." The honesty of her own words astounded her. For the whole of her life nothing had been more important than the Players, they were her family. Now, it almost made her sick to be with them and not here, in a strange place with a man who had been little more than a mirage of her dreams.

"No?"

Psyche shook her head. "You would stay with me?" Guy asked her, his eyes searching hers. Psyche could only nod, the intensity in those blue eyes robbing her of voice.

She found herself swept up. "I was hoping you would say such a thing," Guy said in a low, husky whisper. Psyche shared in his mischievous smile, all the while trying to contain nervous energy.

Psyche kissed him. No need now to say a word. Psyche closed her eyes, images of Marian in her place washing away from her mind. Perhaps she could truly change the future.

Guy allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps there was no need for spies and such doubt. She had proven herself loyal tonight. And perhaps it was not impossible for him to even love her after all.

* * *

**A/N: You might be interesting in knowing that this is the edited PG-13 version of this chapter. For those who want the actual version feel free to PM me and I'll send it to you. **

**As always, review and let me know what you think!  
**


	25. Thieves and Ghosts

XXV

Thieves and Ghosts

Psyche was awoken by the bright morning light which filtered in through the windows, whose curtains had not been shut the night previous. Psyche rolled over, touching a corner of the quilt covering her. The blankets felt delicious against her bare skin. She spotted were her black dress and cloak lay crumpled in a heap at the side of the bed. Must she put those horrible clothes back on? A performance would be necessary, since she had neglected her duties yesterday. How could she be expected to play the part of the seer today of all days, when she felt so freely and perfectly human?

An arm snaked across her waist and pulled her back against a warm body. A hand went to her face, to brush away unruly wisps of black hair. "Tell me, Psyche," Guy said, his voice raspy, "what is the cause of such a smile?"

She had not known she had been smiling. Had she been so unused to the expression she could not recognize the taunt pull of her muscles? "Because..." she needed to think for a moment, a process made difficult at Guy's light caresses, "last night I was...happy." It sounded strange to say aloud, but it was true. The truth of it nearly made her choke on her own words and it spread a warmth throughout the whole of her body.

She turned herself over so that she was facing him fully. "Guy, do you know that when I sleep I dream?"

"How novel, a woman who dreams..."

"No, I mean...I see things; visions."

"Did you have one last night?" Guy asked her.

"No." And this time Psyche felt her lips break in a smile. "No, last night my thoughts were my own! It was all silence and darkness."

"You were at peace," Guy told her, kissing her forehead.

"And you are the source of such contentment. I can not be haunted by the future or by another's thoughts while you are with me." She was biting her tongue in an effort to not say the three words she longed to tell him. So simple to do. His eyes were bright and he seemed glad to be thought of as a source of comfort. He held her tight in his arms, as if he would not dare let her leave him, like she would ever try! It wouldn't be unwanted if she were to tell him?

"Guy...I...I think that I am...that I..."

"What is it?" He smirked at her sudden inability to formulate a proper sentence. Psyche could feel the sudden flash of affection as Guy reflected on how sweet she looked when she grew shy. This only caused her to flush and her smile to grow.

"It is hard to say..."

"Now I am intrigued."

Before any further confidence could persuade her to speak her mind, she was cut short by a sudden swarm of complicated thoughts. Through the tangle of them she was able to decipher things she would rather not have. _I wish I could have known her before...shame...could have loved her... _And then there were images of Marian. He was picturing her in her place, saying everything she had said, done all that she had done. He whispered words of love to this image he thought long dead. She saw how he had contented himself with the substitute provided for him.

The gentle caress Guy was giving her suddenly felt mechanical. She pushed his hand away and moved out of his arms. The thoughts and images swirled in her mind before coming to a confused stop. It had only lasted a second, but Psyche had felt the weight of it for far longer.

"I...I have to leave you."

Guy tried to grapple for her as she left the bed, picking up her clothing and doing her best to dress as fast as she was able. "Psyche!" Guy sat up, "Wait. I didn't mean..."

Psyche had her dress on and half buttoned, her cloak was already draped over her shoulders. She wasn't listening to his excuses as she made her way towards the door. Guy did not have as much time, half-dressed, he caught her just as she was about to set foot into the corridor.

"Psyche, please, I didn't realize what I was thinking...you can not blame me for my own thoughts!" So he did realize what she was truly capable of?

"I do not blame you." It was back to the cold, distant seer.

"Last night, my thoughts were with you. And this morning as well, but..."

"You do not have to explain yourself," Psyche said, "I understand, I do." She tried to wrench her arm from his grasp.

"Then stay."

"I can not."

"But there is something that I—my feelings for you..."

His grip slackened as he tried to formulate the proper words. Psyche tore off down the corridor. "Psyche!" Guy cried out for her, but this only lent her greater speed. He did not give chase.

Guy retreated into his room, the door shutting behind him. He saw Psyche's black gloves on the floor, in her haste she must have forgotten them. He picked them up, her scent still upon them. What had he been thinking? He sat down upon the edge of the bed. "Psyche," maybe she could still hear him, "I love you."

***

"Joshua?" Gabrielle called as she made her way to his wagon. "Joshua, you're needed outside. You should be gathering people for the performance! Do you want Mariel to beat you to death for neglecting your duties?" Gabrielle decided polite knocking would not be the way in. She pushed open the door. "Joshua?"

"Shut the door!" Joshua snapped. In her startled confusion, Gabrielle did just that.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle said, a conspiratorial whisper at the edge of her voice.

Joshua slipped his knife into its sheath and tied off a leather bag over his back. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he retorted.

"You aren't..." Gabrielle's face drained of all color. "Oh no! No, I'm putting a stop to this. Don't you dare think of going to the Castle! You'll get yourself killed."

"Not likely," Joshua scoffed, adjusting his belt one final time. "I've gone through far more difficult operations."

Gabrielle threw herself agains the door to prevent him from leaving. "This is not the same thing! You don't even know this Castle. It's guarded. You heard how dangerous it was. Psyche said--"

"She said the money was being kept in the cellars. The cellars are always located in the lower levels. All I have to do is sneak in, grab the money, and sneak out. I'll be back before you can even start to worry properly for me. Besides, would you be this worried if Robin Hood was doing this?"

"You're not Robin Hood!"

"No, you're right. At one point I could have been even greater than him." Joshua gave Gabrielle a cheeky grin, "Gabrielle, please, trust me."

"You're a fool. You're going to get yourself killed over this! This isn't even our affair."

"All of our friends are going to risk their lives for this. And if someone doesn't act now who will? You sound just like Psyche, only worried for yourself. Sometimes you have to think of other people." Joshua tried to shove Gabrielle out of the way.

Powerless to stop him, Gabrielle watched as Joshua left the wagon. She gave chase, but he was always too fast for her. She watched the agile, young thief dash away to the Castle. Her heart pounded in her chest. Joshua was right, their friends were counting on their support and he was a capable thief, the best she had ever seen, but this was far beyond his skills. He could not take on an entire Castle on his own!

Gabrielle knew Joshua would want her to stay silent and not inform the others, but what other course of action was there for her to take? Gabrielle went scouring through the campgrounds, trying to maintain a decent grip on her panic. All about she could see the others making ready for the performance. Psyche hadn't returned yet and she could hear them whisper of her whereabouts. Mariel was missing as well and in the absence of the two women everyone was at a loss. Gabrielle was too young and had no authority to give orders to anyone.

The sight of Marian directing a group of Players was just the welcome relief Gabrielle needed. "Marian!" she cried as she ran over to her.

"Gabrielle, good, I was just about to get you. Where is Joshua? He should be out by now."

"He's gone," Gabrielle explained, "He's going to the Castle to try and get the ransom money." Marian's blanched, "I tried to stop him," Gabrielle went on. "We need to go after him. He only just left. If we hurry we can--"

"No," Marian placed a hand upon the girl's shoulder, "I need you to stay here."

"But..."

"I'll go."

"I'll tell Robin then."

"Better that you don't," Marian said, "If Robin finds out he'll have the whole gang storming the Castle in minutes, and we can't afford to cause a scene. I know Nottingham Castle better than anyone, don't you worry. I'll see Joshua safely back."

Gabrielle nodded, feeling far more at ease knowing she had the support of Marian; ever the capable and dependable woman. "All right," Gabrielle said. "Please, hurry!" She cried as Marian went off after Joshua.

Getting into the Castle would be easy, Marian mused as she ran, it would be getting out with one extra stowaway that would be the hard part. She mentally scanned through Robin's secret exits and entrances into the Castle. Some of them had been blocked off in the time Allan had been working for the Sheriff, but for all of those, there were several more that had gone undiscovered.

As Marian approached the Castle Gates, she pulled her hood up and over her head, obscuring her features. Now it was all a matter of confidence. She strode over to the two guards, making sure to keep her head slightly bowed to avoid detection.

"Message for the Sheriff of Nottingham," she said with a gruff voice.

"You don't look like any messenger I ever seen," one of the guards retorted.

"An' you don't like any proper guards I ever seen either," Marian barked. "Now, get outta my way."

"Not so fast," the guard said, "State your name."

"None o' your business. Confidential stuff here. Want to be the one t' explain t' the Sheriff on why he didn't get notice in time? Oh, I sure would want t' be you when he hears about the delay..." Marian shook her head.

The guards shuffled, "Can't just let you go in without knowing your name an' whose authority are you here?"

Marian sighed, plucking a coin from her pocket, an idea forming. She twirled the silver coin between her fingertips, causing the light to catch on it and shine like a ring. The deft movement was over before it could be noticed. "The Black Knights."

"Forgive the misunderstanding," the guard said, stepping out of her way. "Had to be sure. Can never be too careful, what with outlaws an' all..."

"Forgiven," Marian sniffed, taking the same coin that had served as her ring and tossing it to the guard, "This meeting never happened. Is that understood?"

"Aye, completely."

Guards, thought Marian as she strode through the courtyard, they hadn't gotten a bit smarter since she had been gone. She sighed as she walked upon familiar ground. It had nearly been a year since she had last stepped foot within Nottingham Castle. This place had felt like a prison once. The high battlements still loomed, turning even the brightest days to a hazy gray. She could hear the sound of horses from the stable yard and the barracks where the soldiers stayed were empty for now, usually there was the constant sound of armor and steel.

Marian took the Castle Steps two at a time, as she sometimes did. Here, she reflected, was where she had stood to meet the Count the Sheriff had thought would so gullibly fall into all of his traps. Guy had stood just a little behind her, he thought she could not see his looks of jealousy and resentment. She had. And here, she recalled as she opened the doors to enter the main hall, was where Guy had chased after her and tried to comfort her after her father had been killed. Had it only been a year since then? It felt like lifetimes ago.

Marian ran towards the cellars. What if Joshua had not yet gotten into the Castle. True, she had not seen him dealing with the guards, but what if he was lost amid the halls? She approached the winding staircase which led to the lower levels of the Castle. As she walked she suddenly became aware of the sound of footsteps ahead of her. She sped up her pace, winding down the spiral until she saw a young boy springing down the last of the steps.

"Joshua!" Marian cried.

Joshua turned, taking one look at the cloaked figure and running for his very life. "Joshua, wait! It's only me, Marian."

"Marian!" Joshua stopped, turning about to get a better look at her. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, it seems."

"I have everything under control!" Joshua shouted.

"Oh really? If you did, then you would know that down near the cellars there are two sets of guards that make the rounds every hour on the hour, and that even if you did manage to avoid them to get the money out of the cellars you would have to contend with the patrol of guards on the first level, and the courtyard and the ones on the battlements and gates! Joshua, this is why we were told to wait. We need to have a plan. We can't just go dashing into things."

"But you're here now! We can both get the money out."

Marian shook her head, "Joshua, we need to get out while we are both still undetected."

"But you were the Nightwatchman!"

"Who told you that?!" Marian exclaimed, that was a name she had not heard in a long time.

"Robin did," Joshua grinned, "He told me how you were robbing from the Sheriff even since before Robin became an outlaw."

"Did he tell you how many people were hurt because of those escapades?" Marian said, recalling the look of horror Guy had had in his eyes when he had seen her under her mask. "That was a long time ago."

The of armored footsteps ceased all sound. Marian grabbed Joshua, pulling him close to her. She whispered to him, "Quietly now, back up the stairs, don't argue. Do as I say."

"But I can..."

"You there!" The guards rough voice broke through, "What are you doing down here?"

"You wanted to know what the Nightwatchman was capable of?" Marian asked Joshua, pulling him behind her. "Stay back."

Marian rushed the guards, using his own weight against him, by tripping him up. He fell to the floor with a crash. He rolled out of the way of Marian's punch and drew his sword. Marian dodged the strike and sent a quick jab into the man's jaw, knocking him backwards. She kicked him in the head, causing him to fall into the wall, striking himself a second time. He slumped over, unconscious.

"Let's go!" Marian said to the awe-struck boy.

She took him by the arm and led him quickly up the staircase. "If we hurry, no one else need know we were here."

***

The guard leaned against the stone pillar. He counted the coins in his hands before tipping his hand and letting them clink back into their pouch. He tied them off around his belt.

"You are to follow her, monitor who she sees and who she speaks with. Do not let her out of your sight. Is that understood?" Guy instructed.

"Perfectly, Sir Guy."

"And you report back to me. Only to me." The last thing he needed was the Sheriff getting a hold of any of this information. While the guard was only reporting back to him there was no reason to think that this was a breach of trust towards Psyche. He should think of it as a way to secure her safety. Although, he knew Psyche would want nothing to do with him or his brand of safety at the moment. She was probably in her chambers, or back with the rest of the Players. He wished she had not gone and had given him a moment to explain. He hated thinking of how miserable she must be. Well, she would return soon enough even if only to speak to the Prince, and he would be waiting.

"You are dismissed," Guy said and the guard left him to go scout around the Player's camp.

He supposed while the guard went to check if Psyche was out in the town square, he had better see if she had locked herself in her chambers. He cursed himself mentally for his thoughts that morning. He had had no control over them! Marian was always in his mind, she was a ghost that would not let him go, but that did not mean he did not care for Psyche. How was this to be handled? Did loving another mean Marian would finally be truly lost to him? He could not bear that. But did keeping Marian in his heart mean he could not fully love another? He could not stand to lose such a gift as Psyche either!

Frantic and angered shouting cut through his thoughts. From down the hall he saw two figures, a boy and a hooded woman. Behind them were three guards. They ran for the doors leading out into the courtyard. They did not appear to be carrying anything of consequence. A plan gone awry? Guy did not waste much time, "You three," he ordered the guards, "get the other guards into position. I'll handle these two."

He followed where the would-be-thieves had gone. They were skirting across the courtyard. The guards were raising the alarm, ordering for the gates to be closed. Guy drew his sword, pinning the woman's cloak to the ground for a moment. She was jerked violently backwards before the cloak ripped. The hood was torn from her, but she managed to jerk free. "Run!" She told the boy and shoved him forwards. He stumbled, the momentum gave him the extra burst to make it to the other side of the gates.

The woman slammed into them, hands clinging to the metal. "Get after the boy!" Guy shouted, "You," he remarked the woman, "will be taken to the dungeons."

The woman remained with her back towards Guy, still clinging to the gates. "Turn around," Guy growled. Stroke of luck here, he thought, probably one of Robin Hood's gang. That ought to appease the Sheriff, enough maybe to turn his attentions away from Psyche for a time.

Very slowly, the woman released the gate, raising her arms so that he could see she was unarmed. Guy kept his sword at level with the woman. She turned to face him, raising her head to meet his gaze.

The sword shook in Guy's hand for a moment before falling to the ground with a resounding clatter.

* * *

**A/N: *Insert evil laughter here* **

**Review to yell at me for leaving you here. ;)  
**


	26. Her Living Image

XVI

Her Living Image

Guy did not feel the sword fall from his hand, nor did he hear the sharp clatter as it hit the paved stone beneath his feet. The feminine shape before him had taken on a most maddening visage. At first he denied its existence, but he noticed there were still three guards stationed on the battlements and they had their bows notched and pointed directly at her. Not mad then. Sane. And a scream lodged in his throat, blocking all speech. It burned in his ears along with the blood which hammered through his veins.

The bright eyes blinked up at him, the pale and oh so gentle hands lowered. The perfect rose of a mouth opened and he heard a voice long missed and sweet as honey speak his name. "Guy..."

He backed up out of instinct to avoid the ghost, as he always did in his dreams. He shook his head. He should run. He needed to get away. He was going mad. Quick, away back to Psyche so that she might hold him and tell him that this was simply a ghost come to walk among the living.

The ghost was following him. "Guy, please..." the plea was a breathless one. Sorrow was heavy in those bright, dear eyes.

Another shake of his head. Marian tried to reach out for him, but he pulled back before she could brand him with her ghostly touch.

One of the guard's control slipped from holding his bow so taunt for so long without word to lower his weapon. Guy saw it from the corner of his eye. The arrow was loosed and it sped down to the ground, aiming for Marian.

"_No!_" Guy screamed, finding his voice. He pulled the woman into his arms, hearing her gasp in surprise as she felt the arrow stir up the air beside her, it fell upon the courtyard; harmless.

Marian shook a little in his arms at the realization that Guy had saved her from injury. Guy heard her heart beat, felt her short gasps for air as she slowly tried to calm herself; felt the warmth of her and the life in her. Denial broke around him and fell like so much fine glass. He looked down at her. She had her hands against his chest, her fingers curled to clutch at the clasps on his coat. She looked up at him, and Guy was astonished to see tears in her eyes.

"Marian." The name was a ragged sob and Guy sank to his knees, his arms wrapped about her waist. He wept against her, not concerned who should see or hear him. The sounds of his cries were torn from his throat. He clutched her tightly. He felt her hand upon him; her fingers stroking his hair and he wept all the harder for the feel of her touch.

The shouts of more guards accompanied by the voice of the Sheriff drew Guy back to his senses. He rose to his feet and took Marian by the arm. "This way." He led her into the Castle, careful to avoid the sounds of guards.

Feeling very much like an outlaw himself in that moment, Guy carried his stolen treasure to secluded chambers down the hall. He dared not make his way to his own room for fear of being discovered. He shut the door, leaning it against it for support, his legs still unsteady.

Marian turned to face him, she appeared to not know where to look, for her eyes kept flickering over him to the floor and then back again. She began to pace, as she had always done when she was especially nervous. "Guy, I..." she tried to formulate words, but where to start. Should she forgive him? Tell him of her marriage to Robin? Inform of the details of her stages of recovery? Tears choked her and she placed a hand over her mouth, ashamed that she should have lost all control before this man whom she had no right to cry over. "...I..."

Guy approached her and enveloped her in his arms. The movement was natural. Marian did not try to push him away, as she often had done whenever he had tried to hold her before. She placed her arms about him. Guy cupped the back of her head, pressing her to his chest as he rocked her back and forth. "I don't understand..." he whispered against her hair. "Am I going mad?"

"No, no," Marian said, managing to collect her voice. She looked up at him, "You're not mad, Guy, I'm here."

"How?! I killed you...I saw you die."

"It is hard to explain," Marian said, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve, "I was saved by Djaq. She cared for me until I was well enough to travel back home."

Guy recognized the name of the woman who was a part of Robin Hood's gang, but the mention of one of the outlaws did not sting him as it would have so long ago. "Marian, I never meant to—Oh God help me, I would never..."

Marian hushed him, "I know. I knew in that moment when I looked up at you, I could see it in your eyes."

"I just wanted you to stop saying those words." He could still hear them, running through his brain, tormenting him. _I love Robin Hood_. "I couldn't think, couldn't see, I just had to stop you."

"Guy, please, do not think back on this..."

"How can you say that?!" Guy said, his tone rising, "It is all I have thought of!" She was removed from his arms, "I killed you!" He shouted, "Do you think with a word you can make me forget a year of _hell?!_"

"It was hell for me too!" Marian yelled, words she had not dared admit to herself threatened to spill from her lips. "Do you think I was not keenly aware of being alive while knowing you thought I was dead and you the cause of it? Guy, for a long time I hated you for what you had done; for keeping me apart from my home and Robin..."

Guy's head lowered at her words, knowing that she had a far greater right to her fury than he had to his own. "But," she went on, "for an even longer time I hated myself." Guy looked up at her, eyes wide, "I never wanted to say those words to you. I knew what they would mean. I just wanted to distract you away from harming the King."

"Forgive me," Guy said without thinking.

"I already have."

They embraced once more. Guy felt the hellish burden he had been carrying all those long dark months ease. The absolution of Marian's words washed over him. Marian brought her hand to his face, lightly brushing her fingers against him. Guy pressed her hand to his cheek, eyes closed. Without thought, Marian raised herself up upon the tips of her feet and brought her lips to his. If Guy felt shocked by such an action it was quickly flung from his mind. The only thought now of any concern was that Marian had kissed him.

She had only ever kissed him once before and even then she had been distant. Marian pulled at him, her fingers tangling in his hair. Her mouth was yielding and soft against his and Guy heard her nearly whimper at his reciprocation of her unexpected passion.

Guy's mind was caught in a whirlwind. He dared not give into thought for fear of breaking whatever spell had him in its grasp. His Marian was alive and had returned to him. This was proved a greater reality at every turn of her head, every flick of her tongue over his lips and against his mouth, and every soft curve he felt as his hands traveled over her body.

When had they fallen onto the bed? Guy felt her pulling at the clasps on his coat, removing it in the blink of an eye. Guy folded her into his arms as she pressed kisses to every inch of him. Guy removed her cloak and pulled at the strings of her bodice.

Marian broke away from Guy and rolled off of him, the swirling pools of lust cooling in her eyes. "No," she panted, her cheeks high with color. "We can not do this..."

Guy lay back, also struggling to regain his senses. Marian glanced over at him, he looked almost complacent from this angle. He was staring quietly up at the ceiling, his chest heaved heavily for a moment before normal breath was restored. He turned his head to look at her, and much to Marian's surprise he smiled at her. It was a rare sight to see. "I know," he said, "it is enough to know you wanted to."

Marian blushed harder, "I did care for you Guy. I...I do care for you. I think in another life we would have made each other very happy. But..."

"You love Robin Hood." There was no hint of malice in his voice. Marian was almost grateful for this sudden understanding. She nodded her head, recalling the heartbreaking expression he had one had on his face when she had first revealed this to him.

He opened his arms and she gladly laid back down and curled up against him. "You have changed," she said as he stroked her hair with gentle, absentminded caresses.

"Have I?" He asked her. Oh it was so good to have her with him, to hold her once more...

"Yes, you seem far more contended then I have ever seen you."

"That is because you are with me."

"Is that all?" She asked.

"I have been given a miracle," Guy said, kissing her forehead, "That would be enough to content any man."

They lay in silence for a time, taking comfort in one another's arms. Both knew they would have to leave the other soon, but neither were willing to address that fact now. Eventually, Guy broke the silence. "There is someone lately come to the Castle, you would never believe in such a woman."

"Wouldn't I?" Marian replied.

"She was brought to be a fortune-teller for the Prince. I know you never believed in such fantastical things, but Marian, she's a seer."

"What is her name?" Marian asked, she wanted to know how far Guy would dare to tell her of his affair. If that meant playing ignorant she would.

"Psyche," he said the name like a simple prayer. "I think you would like her."

"Is she the cause of such a change in you?"

Guy laughed low, "She has given me a glimpse of happiness, yes."

"Then I would even love her."

Guy held her tightly in his arms. Why her approval of Psyche meant so much to him he did not know. "I should return soon," Marian said without getting up, "I will be missed."

"I will see you safely from the Castle," Guy said.

* * *

Psyche could not keep the mask of anger up for long. She had, after all, no right to it. After several tedious hours alone in her chambers in the Castle she had come to the conclusion that whatever thoughts had briefly flashed through Guy's mind were not direct slights to her. Now she just felt childish. Of course he could have no control over his own thoughts or feelings. He would always love Marian and Psyche could find no true fault in that. She had only ever wanted to see him happy, and he had been up until she had decided to take personal offense.

Why must everything be so damned difficult? Psyche supposed she ought to apologize to Guy, she knew he would be more than ready to hear it and to accept it. She had never had to apologize to anyone before. Arriving at this decisive point, Psyche dragged herself from her chambers and made her way out into the corridor.

She heard Guy's voice from a ways down the hall, which surprised her, Guy's chambers were no where near her own. All the better for her, at least now she did not have to seek him out.

She turned the corner and froze. Guy stood against a doorway while Marian, with a hidden smile upon her face, buckled up the clasps of his coat. Guy was watching her perform this small task with wonder and adoration in his eyes. He kissed her cheek and Marian's faint laughter echoed in Psyche's ears to mix in with the vision she had once had.

Psyche doubled back, hiding behind the corner, peering at them through the arch. She could not breathe. Her fingers dug into the wall, so hard that the pads began to bleed. She did not blink, and her throat constricted and grew hot. She should move, run, anything, but she found she could not move.

"Don't ask me to stay," Marian said.

"How did you know what I was going to say?" Guy replied.

"Because you always ask me that. You know it will be better for us both if I go."

Guy nodded, daring to hold the woman in his arms again, "I know, but don't tell me this will be the last time I am able to see you."

"It won't be," Marian said, "I don't think I could bear that."

He kissed her. Marian pushed him lightly, "But we will have to stop this," she placed a finger upon his lips.

Guy smiled sadly, brushing a few locks of hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear, "Come," he said, "we should leave before any of the guards catch you with me."

He took her by the arm and led her away, all the while making sure she was kept bound to his side. Psyche came out of hiding to stand alone in the middle of the corridor. She stared off after them, eyes devoid of any definitive expression. She turned quietly, her long cloak rustling against the stone beneath her, and like a shadow against a darkening sky, she vanished.

Unaware that they had, in fact, already been caught together, Guy and Marian hurried through the corridors. Eventually finding their way towards the Great Hall, Marian stopped Guy before he could open the doors. "What are you doing?" she hissed, "The Sheriff could be in there."

"Wait here," Guy said softly as he opened the doors. He stepped inside only briefly before doubling back for Marian, "He's probably out with the rest of the guard looking for you and your accomplice. Quickly now, while there's still time."

Marian took Guy's hand and allowed him to lead her into the hall. She recalled how she had looked up at these very stairs when Guy had returned to fight with her and the rest of the people against Prince John's troops. How proud she had been of him then. "Where are we going?" she asked him.

"Through here," Guy pushed against the wall at the end of the long table and behind the Sheriff's seat. Marian gave a light gasp when she saw the wall give way and turn like a door. "It leads out into Sherwood."

"That's brilliant," Marian commented as she stepped into the hidden tunnel.

"Thank you," Guy smirked as he closed the passageway behind them.

They slowed their pace significantly as soon as they were fully down the tunnel, there were no guards here to catch them and the Sheriff would never suspect of someone using the tunnel. Marian looked over at Guy, "You never did ask me what I was doing in the Castle, you know."

"Attempting to steal the ransom money?"

"How did--"

"I'm not as stupid as you always seemed to think," Guy said with a wry expression.

"I never thought that," Marian said softly. "You do not care that I was attempting to disrupt your plans?"

"Marian," Guy sighed, "I lost my taste for politics a long time ago." The brash statement silenced Marian, for she knew to what Guy was referring. She took his hand and the gesture seemed appreciated for Guy lost his darkening looks.

The tunnel was a long one and it wound ever deeper. The low ceiling dripped steadily and spiderwebs and cobwebs blended together. At times Marian wasn't certain what she was seeing, but Guy seemed to have had the paths memorized, for he did not falter in his step. He kept Marian close to him for fear of losing her in the dark.

They came to set of stairs leading upwards, Guy climbed them and pushed aside the rocks blocking the exit. Light streamed downwards and Guy raised a hand over his eyes to shield them from the light. Marian blinked rapidly, tears stinging the corners of her eyes at the sudden light.

"There," Guy said as she climbed back down. "This leads out into a churchyard, Sherwood is just beyond it."

"Guy..."

Guy shook his head, denying her thanks. "Go."

"Guy, come with me." Marian took his hands in hers.

"What?" She could not be serious. "I thought you said it would be better if you left."

"I know, but...Guy, you do not belong here. Come with me, Robin will--"

"Sooner see me dead then allow me anywhere near him or _you_. Really, Marian you never give up do you?" Guy sighed.

"I stand by my belief that you are a good man, Guy. Now more than ever. Why do you always consent to condemn yourself?"

"Because I can not see you with Robin!" Guy said with strangled voice, "I want your happiness Marian, I always have, but I am not a selfless man. Do not ask me to come with you just so that I might be reminded that you are _his_. I am doing what I should have done years ago. I am letting you go."

Marian brought her arms up and around the near trembling man. It was rare to see him come so undone. His fragility had always frightened her, she often forgot how easily breakable he was; how human he was. Guy did not return her embrace. He brought his head down to rest upon her shoulder as she spoke to him. "Forgive _me_," she whispered.

"There is nothing to forgive."

Marian parted from him. "If you ever have need of me, send word to me and I will meet you here," Guy told her. "I swore to protect you once, I will not fail you again."

Marian mounted the steps leading upwards into the churchyard. "You did not fail me," she said, "You were not all responsible for what took place in Acre." Guy stared up at her, confusion heavy in his haunted eyes, "The Sheriff took me out into the desert and left me with Robin and the rest of the outlaws to die."

"_What?_" Guy could not believe this. He had always thought that Marian had escaped the confines of her room at the Black Knight's hideout. The Sheriff had promised him Marian...he had meant to kill her regardless of his demands?

"The man does not deserve your loyalty, Guy," Marian told him, "I will call upon you for help. Am I wrong to put my trust in you again, my friend?"

Guy looked up at her, fury in his eyes, "I am yours to command."

Confidence rushed through Marian's veins. She leaned down to place a gentle kiss against Guy's lips. Guy grabbed her arm, the anger cooling momentarily as he spoke tenderly to her, "Stay safe...my love," the endearment stumbled from his mouth and Marian smiled at the reemergence of the shy man behind the Black Knight.

"You know I shall try." Her coy statement wrung a small smirk from him. He release her and she continued her climb upwards. As soon as she was above ground she gave him a final wave goodbye before heading back to join with Robin Hood and the rest of the gang.

Guy exhaled, leaning against the ladder of steps. He spun with a multitude of emotions. There was so much to be done. The need to kill the Sheriff came to mind. He would have to restrain himself, anything done rashly could through the entire shire into chaos. He must think of other things. Marian was alive! Alive and safe and for now he could content himself with her living image. Relief did swamp his senses at the thought. Her happiness was secure, and along with it his own, no matter what happened in the future.

Thoughts of happiness and the future quickly turned towards Psyche. He sped off through the dark tunnel. There was much to tell her, and perhaps, even a question to be asked.

* * *

**A/N: Five rewrites and three cups of coffee later...:) I usually would have updated "Chains" first, but this warranted my immediate attention. The other fic will be updated soon. Also, apparently FFN is no longer showing my asterisks, so I've gone back to separating scene shifts with the line break. Bleh. **

**ALSO! I HAVE A WEBSITE! Ok, so it's really amateurish an I'm still learning how to organize the thing, but you should check it out. Go to my profile and click on my web-page link. Have fun with that.  
**


	27. Inevitable Future

XXVII

Inevitable Future

Psyche sat upon the edge of her bed, counting the seconds. Every moment brought Guy closer to her. She knew he was going to come for her. She could sense him, it was as if he was screaming her name there was so much overspill of emotion. So Psyche waited with patience, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes staring at the crack at the bottom of the door. Her spine was ridged, her ankles crossed; she appeared more of a woman awaiting a summons than the dead thing she felt.

Guy's presence was announced with a quiet knock. He didn't wait for a response. Having announced himself, he opened the door. Psyche blinked and swallowed hard at the feel of his sheer euphoria. Here was an emotion she had never felt before. Guy's eyes were fire over an azure lake. Psyche could not look at him.

"How long have you been here?" he asked her. He sat down beside her, took his hands in hers and kissed them.

"Long enough," Psyche replied. She allowed him to do what he would with her, feeling much like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her arms were limp, but Guy did not notice. He continued to hold her hands in his.

"Then we should get you out of this place," Guy said, "Walk with me. I have much to tell you."

Psyche could not bear this a moment longer. "What could you have to tell me that I do not already know?" she said as she fought back a sob.

Guy raised Psyche's lowered head so that she might look at him in the eye. "Then you must also know that it is not her I am with now." He gave her a smirk, but Psyche saw pity behind it.

"Don't," Psyche said. Oh she would not give in and cry before him. Her chest constricted, but she forced tears away from the corners of her eyes. "That is not enough."

"I did not think it would be for you," Guy sighed. "Psyche...what explanation could I give you?"

"Start with telling me how you love her. I know that you do."

"Yes," Guy did nothing to deny such a thing, "And you..." he wrapped an arm about her, "And you..."

"Oh this is too much!" Psyche shoved his arm off of her and stood up, "Coddling I can understand, but _lies?_ You can not lie to me, Guy!"

"I am not lying," Guy said, "I love you. I was going to tell you as much this morning. Marian does not belong to me, Psyche, she never did. But you," he rose to try and persuade her to accept his embrace. She skittered away from him. "Please, you must believe me. Judge for yourself! I can not lie to you! I love you."

"Stop!" Psyche cried, "You do not love me! You only want to...that is why--"

Guy grabbed Psyche, no longer willing to be patient with her. "Do not tell me what I should or should not feel, or what I am supposed to be thinking. I have told you I love you. I know you love me. Say it!" he shook her, "Tell me you love me!"

The urgency of his voice served only to hurt her in ways he could not possibly imagine. He held her, not for the sake of holding her, Psyche realized, but because she was all he had available to him. It would be so easy to use this to her advantage and make him truly hers. She pressed her forehead to his. "Guy..."

"Yes? Yes, tell me!"

How much he wanted this, Psyche closed her eyes as she tried to absorb blow after blow. How he need to hear those words spoken. They were on her lips. One phrase, that was all. Yes, he truly loved Marian, but he could force that love away if she proved herself to be his. He would make room in his heart for anyone who claimed to care for him, so desperate was he. And his pain throbbed in her own heart.

"You love Marian." This was said with shaky breath as the realization stole over her that she cared not if she had possession over him. She only wished to end his pain.

"Are you punishing me?" Guy asked, pushing her away from him, eyes growing cold and losing their euphoric fervor. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I have lied to you," Psyche said. He would hate her for this. His anger would know no bounds. "I have been lying to you from the beginning." She kissed his cheek, hoping to gentle him and soften the blow of her words.

"I don't understand."

"I knew Marian was alive since the moment I met you."

Guy was silent. He stared at her as if she had spoken an unintelligible language. Not even Psyche could decipher what he was feeling or thinking. She drew in breath, she must say all of it before her nerve failed her and she resorted to stealing him for herself once more. "I knew Marian since...before I had met you. We met in Acre, while she was recovering from her wound." _Speak, say it all, leave nothing unspoken!_ "She traveled with me back to England. She told me of her life here in Nottingham and of Robin Hood and you--"

"No...you are lying. Why are you saying this?" Guy was backing away from her now.

"I am not lying. That day when you thought you had seen Marian's ghost in the town square. That was no ghost. You had truly seen her with the other Players. She has been living with us for these past few months. I didn't tell you because as long as you believed Marian to be dead I knew there was always a chance you could come to care for me and I..." Psyche found herself pinned up against the wall. Guy held her fast, hands gripping her by the shoulders with rough force. His eyes were flaring, yet he did not shout at her. His voice emerged as a strangled hiss.

"I trusted you! You told me you were here to help me. To _heal_ me! Those were your very words!"

"I was!" Psyche wailed, "How would telling you the woman you loved was alive only to have you see she was married to your enemy, help you?"

"You know nothing!" There was a roar building in the back of his throat, "Better to have known Marian was still living then still think her dead by my hands!" He slammed her head against the wall, "You could have healed me with a word and you _let me continue on with a lie?_"

Psyche groaned with pain, "I was trying to protect you..." She could not tell him that was all she had ever given him. He would never believe that she had been his guardian these five years past now.

Guy released her, shaking his head. "You've brought this upon yourself, foolish woman! Who is to say what would have happened if you had told me all this before?"

"You would never have wanted me..."

"Well we will never know now!" Guy spat.

"Guy, forgive me, I never meant--" she tried to reach out to him. Guy's patience snapped. He backhanded her across the face, sending her stumbling away, a hand upon her stinging cheek.

"Don't you dare think to touch me, witch." He said what he knew would hurt her the most. All his former hopes of happiness lay ruined at his feet. He could not summon enough energy to rage against this pitiful woman any further. He felt only emptiness and exhaustion. "You have outlasted your usefulness here. Finish your business here in Nottingham and leave. My life will have improved with your absence."

"Guy, please," No, she had changed her mind! She wanted his understanding and forgiveness. She couldn't leave with the memory of his hatred, "I thought it would hurt you further to know Marian was alive. I did not lie to you always, I never wanted you hurt."

"Enough," Guy said as he opened the door, suddenly appearing far older and more tired than his age. He looked back at her, and Psyche could have wept at the sight of the broken man she had created, "I could have loved you at one time, Psyche," he said hopelessly, "but you have ended all chance of any of our future happiness."

He shut the door with a slam. Psyche shook with the truth of his words and the images of the future she had destroyed. She saw them burst and evaporate in her mind, and with their disappearance, she slumped onto the floor and sobbed without restraint.

* * *

"Joshua!" Gabrielle cried, seeing the bedraggled young lad come running back into the safety of the camp. "My God, look at you! Are you hurt? Are you all right?" She ran towards him.

Joshua collapsed in her arms, panting for breath. "I'm fine," he said, "Led some of the soldiers on a merry little dance before coming back here." Gabrielle continued to check him for any sign of injury. "I'm fine..." he repeated.

"I'll take you back to your wagon. You need to rest."

"No time," Joshua rose to his feet, shoving Gabrielle away, "Get Robin, get everyone! It's Marian. We were trying to escape, but the guards closed the gates. I got out, but she..."

They were already hurrying the main circle of wagons, where the outlaws held their meetings at the close of the day. "Robin!" Gabrielle shouted as the two dashed forwards. "Robin, it's Marian!"

Robin steadied the startled adolescents with both hands. "What do you mean?" he asked, "What's happened?"

Joshua shook his head, "Won't waste time explaining it now. Marian's trapped in the Castle. We have to go now!"

The blood drained from Robin's face at those words. What had Marian been doing in the Castle in the first place? My God, if the Sheriff found her, or Guy? He bolted, grabbing his bow and quiver of arrows. Gabrielle was speaking words to him, but they jumbled in his head. He ran through the many ways he could get into the Castle, but the only problem was he would have no idea where Marian would be kept. The dungeons? Likely, the Sheriff would want to question her. He tried to still the panic, but it was so very hard to think.

"Hallo now? What's all this?"

Joshua swore, but was silenced with a kick from Gabrielle. Marian strode into the center of the camp, pulling her hood down. Her eyes were bright with curiosity and she appeared every inch the woman who had only gone out for a light stroll. Robin felt his heart fall away at the sudden relief upon seeing her. "How...Joshua told me you had been taken by the Sheriff's men!"

"Oh," Marian smiled, "Really, Robin, you thought that the Castle Guards would give me any trouble at all?"

"I saw the gates close myself!" Joshua cried, "How did you escape?"

"Am I or am I not the Nightwatchman?" She winked at Joshua.

Gabrielle took Joshua by the hand and urged him to come away with her as Robin dropped his bow in favor of holding his mischievous wife. Marian gave a light laugh and placed her arms about him. "I am sorry for giving you a fright."

"Do you know what could have happened to you if the Sheriff found you...or Guy?" Robin said, "What were you thinking going to the Castle?"

"I was taking care of a small matter," Marian said.

"You were going after the ransom money, weren't you?" Robin said. When Marian did answer right away, he gave her a little shake, "Did you take leave of your senses?"

"I was only trying to help," Marian said. "Truly. At any rate, I'm quite safe and so is the boy. Let's not waste time on reflecting over a failed mission."

"You never were very good at following orders," Robin admitted, kissing Marian's cheek.

"Never saw the point in them," Marian replied with a wry laugh. Her husband kissed her and she surprised herself with the amount of will power needed to force as much passion into her own kiss. She thought that seeing Guy would fill her with the closure she needed to move on. She looked at Robin, her hand going to his face as she lightly caressed him.

"What is it?" He asked her.

Marian shook her head, lowering her hand. "Nothing," she said. But it was everything. Her heart hurt. This was not how things were supposed to turn out. She was supposed to love Robin. And, oh, she did! But not with all that was necessary. Not nearly with all that he deserved. She released him, "I am going to see to Joshua. I never did thank him properly for his attempt at a rescue." Anything to get away and be alone with her thoughts for a time.

"Of course," Robin smiled, "The next time you plan any ventures like that again you'll at least think to invite me along?"

Marian laughed in spite of herself. He was always frightfully good at cheering her up, even if he didn't always know when she was upset. She kissed him. Was it possible to love two men? She made her way from Robin, sick at heart. Must she still have to decide between them? Suddenly she felt as if no time had passed at all and things were as they had always been before the Holy Land. Lord help her, she did not want to break either of their hearts!

As Marian went off to find Joshua, Psyche was leaving the Castle. In her haste to be gone frpm the despised place, she took no notice of the man by the Castle Gates. As soon as she was well beyond them, the man walked after her with a measured pace. He followed her to the town square, where the circle of wagons occupied a considerable space. The man lingered through the market stalls, which afforded him the greatest view of the square. Psyche did nothing of note. She merely went up to one of the wagons and shut herself up inside.

The man settled himself down on one of the benches. Eventually the woman would have to come out. Here he could wait and bide his time. At one point a woman approached the wagon, but from this angle he could not pin point exactly who the woman was; a fellow Player, no doubt.

The woman knocked a few times upon the door. She waited. Realizing that the door was not going to open for her, she began to turn and head down the wagon steps. It was then Psyche emerged. She signaled for the woman to enter and a few words were spoken. The woman went inside and the door was shut.

If only the spy could have heard of the conversation between the two women. He would have had more than enough to return to his master with, a conviction of conspiracy well in hand. As it was, Psyche and Marian were afforded a brief amount of privacy. The two rivals eyed one another with critical gaze.

Psyche sat upon her cot and Marian took to the little chair opposite of her. Psyche's eyes were red-rimmed and far from the eagle eyed alertness of old. Marian's jealous gaze faltered and she broke the connection first.

"I have nothing to say to you," Psyche said.

"I thought you would already know," Marian said, "I could never hide anything from you. But if you believe that I did anything with malicious intent...Psyche surely you can not think that I would sabotage your--"

"You never sabotage anyone intentionally. No, you sneak about behind their backs and stab them when they are at their weakest!" Psyche snapped, "Do you love him?"

"I...I am..."

"It's a very easy question. Love, Marian, do you love him? You've seen him at his lowest, at his most vicious. Could you hold him knowing all of the crimes he has committed? Could you comfort him when he is assailed by nightmares and demons of his own making? Hm? Yes or no, Marian."

"Yes!" Marian shouted, unable to bear this mockery any longer, "Yes I love him!"

"No you don't," Psyche said, her voice lowered in the growl of violence, "You were never there when he needed you. Night after night, he was haunted by you. You were not there to steal and bottle away nightmares of a lifetime. You did not soothe him when he was in agony!"

"Oh God, Psyche..." Marian paled as she realized now who she was truly speaking of. And how now, at last, it all made sense, "Psyche you can not mean..."

"_He should have been mine!_" She screamed, jabbing at her heart, "He came to _me_ in my dreams! _Me!_ And I helped him, I watched over him. I was his protector. Not _you!_"

Marian reached for her friend, forgetting for a moment the barrier between them. Psyche slapped and twisted away from the embrace, "No don't you touch me!" She rose to her feet. "Don't you touch me with your false sympathy and false words of friendship!"

"Psyche..."

"I should never have taken you with me," Psyche said, chest heaving. No tears would come, she had wrung her heart dry. "I should have let you rot in the desert!" She bit her lip and would say no more.

Marian realized then that Psyche believed she had gone to her far in her own rage. Hesitantly, Marian placed a hand upon the thick, black, sleeve of Psyche's dress. Psyche pulled away with little conviction, but Marian remained latched.

"I did not mean that," Psyche said. Marian could hear how hard it was for her to speak.

"I know," she hushed.

"I love him..."

"I know that too," Marian took the collapsing woman in her arms, surprised that she let her. She let out a light gasp as she felt Psyche embrace her as well.

The wall of rage fell in an instant, "I thought I could have a normal life away from this," Psyche whispered, "I wanted that so badly I was willing to believe he could forget you. That I could change the future. I am sorry I kept you from him."

"But, there is no need for this," Marian said, "We have been reunited now. No one has been hurt by the delay."

"Not you, of course," Psyche said, parting from her friend and wiping again at her eyes. "Guy will never forgive me for my deception."

"Nonsense," Marian's voice was so authoritative Psyche could not help but blink in astonishment. Marian placed a hand upon Psyche's shoulder, "I will see to your reconciliation. I will tell him of our friendship, and Psyche, he would not doubt my word."

"No...I know he would not."

"And you are wrong in believing he does not care for you," Marian said, "He thinks of you as his restorer. I think he might even believe you a goddess."

Psyche laughed without humor. A goddess, a healer, a priestess, or seer. It was all the same. Not human, not just a woman to be loved and cherished. That was always Marian's role, not hers.

"So," Marian sighed. "Where does this leave us, then?"

"No different than before," Psyche replied, feeling rather tired. Her throat burned from her cries and her screams. Now she only wanted her bed and the realm of sleep, at least there Guy answered to her alone. "Marian, about what I said...I am not myself today."

"Think no more of it, my friend," Marian said. "I will admit, I did see you and Guy together on occasion. I suppose it would not be out of line now to say I wanted to rip you apart for jealousy. Although I would hate to have you as a rival."

"Ah, Marian, I believe in combat I would be sorely outmatched next to you." The joke was feeble and quiet, but Marian laughed, surprising herself on how she nearly choked on the sound, noticing for the first time the droplets of tears in the corner of her eyes.

Marian would embrace her friend again, but Psyche side-stepped her, signaling that she had had enough human contact for the day. Marian knew better than to push her. She sighed, "Tomorrow will be a better day for us," she promised, knowing that the emotions were still raw for the both of them.

Psyche could not help but smile at Marian's optimistic outlook. Before Marian could leave the wagon, Psyche startled her by grabbing her arm. Marian looked into the darkening eyes as the seer spoke. "You will have to make a choice. It's not a crime for you to follow your heart, but it is if you ignore it willfully."

Marian heard echoes of her own words being spoken back to her in Psyche's speech. _Is it such a crime for me to follow my heart?_ Oh, but that had been a lifetime ago and yet she remembered acutely the look of agony upon Guy's face as she had uttered those words to him. Psyche seemed to read her thoughts, "If you hurt him knowingly and dishonestly, then this friendship is dissolved. I can only protect Guy from himself, I can not protect him from you." And this fact was killing her slowly, Marian could see.

"I promise you, whatever happens I will be honest," Marian said.

Psyche nodded, "I do believe you, Marian." She released her arm and Marian left her. "I do so _want_ to believe you..."

* * *

**A/N: So many things still left to happen! Things are about to get crazy!  
**


	28. The Lovers

XXVIII

The Lovers

Will Scarlett and Allan a'Dale stood against the large communal wagon at the center of the square. Will stood to attention, his sharp eyes watching as the town became active in preparation for another day. His brown hair was tousled by the light breeze. If there was one thing he had missed during his time spent in Acre, it was the cool winds. He could not help his breeding. He was an Englishman through and through. Allan gave a slight shudder, but Will tilted his head back and indulged in the chill. It might even rain today, there was a dark look about the underbelly of some of the white clouds.

In contrast to his stoic friend, Allan was slouched against the wagon, his arms pulling his cloak about him, hiding his limbs. His hood was up as if it was already down pouring. He sniffled, was the cold getting to him already?

There were friendly calls going up around the square as neighbors greeted one another and went to set up shop. It was hard to tell in the cold, gray light of morning, that these people were oppressed. Will marveled at the sight. The people of Nottinghamshire were a resilient folk, put down by just about everyone in the kingdom, and yet they went on. A girl was walking hand in hand with her father. She rubbed at her eyes with her little hand. Her father scooped her up and let her ride upon his back. She clung to him with a smile upon her face. Will found himself smiling as well; family, that was the key. And how was his brother, Luke? He had sent him away to safety, but perhaps that had been wrong of him. They had both lost a father and a mother, the grief of his parent's deaths came upon him suddenly. How could it still be so fresh at just a single thought? Luke was only a boy, he couldn't be expected to stay and fight with them. Will would never have been able to live with the guilt and the pain of losing his brother as well. No, it had been for the best. When this fight was all over he and Djaq would go to Scarborough and find Luke, and they could be a family again. That was, if this never-ending battle would ever reach its conclusion. Every day there seemed to be another problem, a new dilemma, and never any rest for the heroes of the hour.

"See that man there?" Allan pointed over towards the market at a man in a cloak, lingering by the posts. His gaze was not directed to the two outlaws, not that he would be able to make out their faces from that distance.

"What about him?" Will answered.

"Been watching him," Allan remarked. "He's been standing there since we first got here an' he hasn't moved. He's waiting for something."

"Sure you're not just getting nervous?"

"Listen, mate, when have I ever been the nervous type?" Allan shook his head, "Nah, mark me, he's waiting for something. I want t' keep an eye on him. Not being funny, but he's giving me the shivers."

"And you just told me you weren't the nervous type." Will could not help but snicker at his friend's expense.

Allan's observations could not be ignored, and Will discovered that his eyes were repeatedly drawn over to the cloaked man. He was not staring out at them, but his eyes were trained on the camp grounds. Someone crossed Will's line of vision, and when he turned his head he saw the black crow of a woman, Psyche, making her way from her wagon with frightening haste. Although Will had traveled with Psyche for months he had never grown use to her ways, and she was a frightening creature to be sure. In his mind she was as great and terrible as some pagan goddess; kind-tempered to her favored ones, but cruel as the Devil when crossed.

The man that Allan had placed his suspicions upon, shifted once he caught sight of Psyche. As she passed the street opposite him he moved like a shadow to follow. Allan stood up straighter at the sight. The two men did not jump to conclusions, too aware of the consequences of reacting without thinking. They waited. Psyche was bound for the Castle, this they knew, and the man followed at a slow gait timing out his footsteps so he would not be heard and the woman would not think to turn about to check for any unusual sounds.

Allan turned to Will and they both nodded at one another. They walked side by side, following the man, hands shoved into their cloaks where Allan gripped his twin blades and Will pulled out his axe. Used to running through the forest, where every leaf and twig cracking underfoot could give away their position, they walked like wraiths upon the cobble-stone street. Their cloaks rustled in the chill breeze, but it was the only sound among a thousand others.

The man was caught and dragged away before he knew what had hit him, and before they were close enough to the Castle to arouse the attention of the guards. Will slapped a hand over the man's mouth to prevent him from screaming his outrage. Allan looked as gleeful as a child who had stolen a pie from off of a baker's windowsill. "Told ya he was no good. That'll teach ya t' doubt me."

Will rolled his eyes at his friend. The captured man struggled futilely against them, but it was in vain. Will and Allan dragged him back into the circle of wagons in time to see Djaq emerging from one of the wagons. She blinked in quiet shock and amusement and the expressions upon Will and Allan's faces. "If I had known we were to be having guests I would have made sure to set an extra space for breakfast."

Will grinned at her, "Is Robin awake, love?"

Djaq nodded, "Both he and Marian are with the others by the stage. I'll walk you over."

"'Is Robin awake, love?'" Allan mimicked in a high, squeaky voice. "My God, you've gone soft."

"Shut up," Will said with a good-humored sigh.

The two stopped their bickering upon reaching Robin, who was breaking his fast with Marian and two of the acrobats of the Players. Both Robin and Marian eyed the captive man with wary eyes. "Found him skulking around the market. He was following Psyche back to the Castle, thought it best t' interrupt his travel and bring him 't you." Allan announced.

Robin put down the bowl of porridge and stood up. "A spy, hm?" he asked, inspecting the captive like a buyer glancing at wares in the marketplace. "For the Sheriff no doubt."

"Aye, no doubt," the man said, finally aloud to speak his piece, "And I can tell you he'll be most pleased to find out the witch is working for you."

"Well that puts us in an awkward position doesn't it?" Robin replied, "I mean, we can't very well let you go walking back to the Sheriff and risk our friend's life, now can we? And we can't very well kill you, because the Sheriff would be expecting you to report back to him. How should we go about this?"

It was clear he did not need anyone's input on the matter, he narrowed his eyes, judging the spy not even worth his time, "Tie him up to one of the wagons."

"That can't be the end of the matter?" Marian asked as Robin came back to sit with her after Allan and Will went to do their leader's bidding.

"It's the end of the matter right now," Robin said, picking up his bowl and resuming eating, "When Psyche returns I'll tell her we'll have to take the money tonight and have done with it."

Djaq did not like this over much, "But there's no way into the Castle! And we have no plan."

Marian mused quietly, her food utterly forgotten, "There may be a way in...but I am not sure yet."

"My wife, the woman of mystery," Robin joked as he kissed her cheek. Marian looked a little sullen at the joke. This was not missed by Djaq even if Robin could not see the look in her eyes. Djaq raised an eyebrow. Marian used to be rather fond of Robin's light teasing, why was there such a cloud in her bright eyes? Perhaps the stress of the prolonged scheme was to blame.

* * *

Psyche walked with her head bowed. The courtyard was only a series of gray stones and steps. She would be glad to never see this place again. Her heart would rejoice upon heading back onto the roads leading away from Nottingham and all of its miseries, because Nottingham must surely be a most damned place. She might even be glad to see the sands of the desert once more. How she had taken that rough land for granted. She would travel back to the Holy Land, go farther still and seek out the sands of Arabia, perhaps from there to take a ship to the furthest reaches of the Empire to the land where her people had come from. Ancient, and dune covered country that it was.

Ancient blood was in her veins, Mariel had told her the stories of her people and her kind, she had wondered how Mariel should come to know so much, but then she knew how fond she had been of her mother; her poor mother who had died bringing her into this cursed world. She was of an ancient people, she could trace her family back through the ages, back through dusty Egyptian scrolls and dried up bones. It was drummed into her head from the moment she was old enough to ask questions of her own. She was of a family who had moved through the ages, out of their homeland, through landscapes that had flashed before Psyche's young eyes like pages from a fable. People of her blood were once blessed, once revered, now doubted and suspected. Gods and now Devils. Psyche thought she could not be both and so, would be neither. Mariel had heard her say this and remarked that she would be the wisest Seer she would ever have the pleasure of knowing. But Psyche did not take the compliment. She was a human. Not a Goddess, not a witch or a devil or some high priestess to a deity long since lying in ruins in the ancient sand.

A dark shadow fell across her and she looked up into the eyes of the mortal man who reminded her that perhaps being something more than human might have been the better choice to have made. The blue eyes beheld her like a loathed creature and yet with the same reverence of a man looking on at a heavenly being. The Goddess' held her composure against the Man.

Guy of Gisborne let his gaze of judgement pass over her and turned to walk away in the opposite direction, like a petulant child refusing an easier path because a figure of displeasure marred the way.

"Guy..." The soft call was a spell to charm any mortal being. The Goddess knew how to work her magic when she wished it. Guy had to turn around, he had to face the ancient figure before him. "Is this what we have fallen to?"

"You have no right to speak to me," Guy said. "The Prince will see you, of course, and after I recommend you go back to your own people."

"So, should I not hope for a reconciliation?" Psyche said. She should have waited for Marian to speak to Guy, but the idea made her burn. She could handle her own affairs, and she would not have a simple woman gain the advantage of her.

"You think you have a chance for one?" Guy spat, bridging the gap between them with forceful steps. "You lied to me."

"Then give me the chance to end all lies!" Psyche begged, now more like the supplicant and he the god.

She knew she had him caught in her web. She could feel his confusion and his faint affection for her, which could not be banished by sheer willpower alone. His eyes narrowed and pierced her skin. If she had the gift of forcing a soul to obey her she would have used it know. She wished with all her strength that he would find it within himself to admit her to a private chamber so that they might talk. When Guy nodded his head Psyche could have wept with relief. She was led to his chambers and he shut the door and locked it to avoid interruption.

"Speak," he ordered her like a dog. He neither sat nor permitted her to do so. He stood with his arms crossed and his eyes judging.

"I stand by what I first told you," Psyche said, finding it best to start at once and not delay and risk stammering, "I kept Marian from you to protect you." She saw him flinch at her words. "I would not change my actions if I could. I am guilty of nothing but trying to keep you unhurt. To keep you safe."

"Is that all?" Guy said without a hint of emotion.

"No." This admission shocked Guy, "I am a spy for Robin Hood and am aiding him in the capture of the ransom money being hidden here under Prince John's name." Guy stood as if he had been struck from behind. His arms dropped to his sides and now there was true hurt in his cold eyes. No anger, just pain at this ultimate betrayal. Somehow through the tangle of emotions, Psyche managed to speak with a level voice. "It has nothing to do with you. Robin would not let me into the Castle without promise I would help him and I had to get into the Castle because I had to see you. We are both holding each other ransom, I believe. I give him his money and he gives me leave to be with you."

Whether Guy wanted to or not, he was forced to read the truth of her words in her eyes. She spoke with clarity and serenity, she was not lying to him now. "Why should I believe you?" But the question was only a mask.

"Because now you hold my life in your hands," Psyche said, "You can turn me into the Sheriff if you wish and he will have me executed, or you could let me live."

"You know I will not see you killed," Guy whispered. No, he would not see her killed, because if he turned her in it would mean the Sheriff would locate Robin Hood and wherever Robin was Marian was as well. How could he have been such a fool? He swallowed his pain. His restorer, his angel, was no divine being at all, merely a scheming woman, but a woman his equal in cunning and despair. A woman he could not help but admit, he yearned for in the subconscious crevice of his soul.

"Answer one of my questions now?" Guy asked, his throat dry. "Were you ever...are you...do you love me?"

"Guy..."

"Answer the question!" Guy's voice broke as Psyche knew it had to.

Psyche lowered her head, her body shaking and Guy saw his fire and stone-eyed Goddess shed human tears. "Yes," she said, "Oh, so much..."

This answer did not awaken in him a compassion he thought it should. He thought if he heard her say those words to him all despair and sorrow would wash away from him at once. Instead he felt a leaden weight anchor him down, a weight of pity as he looked at the almost pathetic woman sobbing in front of him. He felt as if he should apologize to her, instead of take her in his arms and admit what he thought would be equal love.

Psyche knew his own mind before he could say a word. "I know what is in your heart, Guy, I know who you truly love. I did come with a message from her. She told me to have you wait for her, she said you would know where..."

The thought of Marian coming to see him again brought with it the solace he had thought Psyche's words of love would give him and he knew there would be no running from it any longer. The eagerness in his eyes was bright and tangible. Psyche could only look on him with sorrow. "Guy?" She called him back from his thoughts of Marian, "Could we perhaps pretend for a moment that I am not some great Seer? That I am only an ordinary woman whose heart is breaking?"

Guy placed his arms about the shaking and sobbing woman, drawing her into a surprisingly tender embrace. He pressed her head to his chest and rocked her gently. "I am sorry," Guy whispered over and over again, knowing what it was to love without hope, "I am so sorry..." She was allowing him to hold her like a babe, to hush her and calm her, and he was aware of the privilege, because he knew the depths of Psyche's pride and he knew how far she had been flung down.

Psyche merely curled up against him. When her tears ceased she stood with her eyes closed, buried against Guy. He was not holding her for any amount of love, but out of acknowledgement that she had tried so hard to help him, and perhaps a little out of friendship, because somehow she had come to understand him and for that he would always respect her.

It would not last. The few short moments of silence were cut short and once Guy released Psyche she felt herself cast off into strange seas, unconnected to ship or shore. Yet, it was impossible for the thread to be cut. The slight pressure in her mind and the gentle tug of his thoughts and feelings reminded her that no matter how far either of them went, she would belong to him for the rest of her days. She would watch over him always. This was not something to be spoken, this was not a love any mere mortal man could comprehend.

It was time to go now. She went to the door and unbolted it. He would let her leave, and he would not alert the Sheriff of her plans. Somehow, Psyche, doubted if he cared at all for such matters now. Guy stopped her with a soft touch upon her arm. She looked up at him and Guy brushed his lips to hers. Psyche smiled at the restorative power of his kiss, perhaps he had a bit of the divine in him as well, yet for all this, Psyche knew he was kissing her good-bye. They would meet again, but it would not be as lovers.

They did not speak still. Psyche left him in silence, both their fears calmed. She felt surprisingly at peace, not at all violent or vengeful as she had upon confronting Marian just that last night. She had let him go, and he had forgiven her. It was over, it was done. Psyche inhaled deeply, a dark shadow crossed her mind's eye and she shuddered at the unspeakable vision. She placed a hand to her lips where Guy's kiss still lingered and was disturbed at how cold her own skin felt to the touch.

* * *

**A/N: Thought I'd give you all a break and not leave you with a cliffhanger as I originally intended to do. :) More to come soon! **


	29. A King's Ransom

XXIX

A King's Ransom

A graveyard was not the easiest place to wait, Marian had decided. The ghostly eyes of the dead buried in the ground seemed to be staring at the living woman wondering why she chose to linger so long in a place of death. Marian paced with impatient steps, turning at every slight sound. One hand was latched onto the hilt of her knife. The Sheriff or his men would not be out on patrol this far into the forest, nor would they think to carefully observe a derelict church and graveyard. But for all of Marian's reassurances, she could not shake her uneasiness. Robin would be missing her and Djaq was sure to note her unusual absence. Perhaps she should have at least told someone where she was going? What if Robin was in Sherwood at this very moment looking for her? If he found her here she would have no decent excuse. She shouldn't feel as if she was doing anything to betray his trust. She was only trying to help him as well as Psyche. The more she assured herself, the tighter the knots in her stomach became.

She sighed with relief when the rocks, which covered the entrance into the tunnel leading to the Castle, began to shift. She knelt upon the ground and helped in clearing the opening. Marian lifted off one of the heavier rocks with both hands and rolled it to the side. She could not help the smile which split her features as she looked down at Guy. They did not speak a word to one another, merely focused upon clearing out a sufficient opening for the tunnel. Marian took hold of Guy's hand to help him out of the tunnel, even though she knew perfectly well it was no difficult task to climb the last rungs of the step-ladder.

"I'm glad you came."

"Did you think that I would not?" Guy asked her. His hand was still in Marian's, but she seemed to have forgotten and Guy had no intention of reminding her.

"No, although I did think you would not have listened to the woman I chose to send to give you my message," Marian said as she looked down. Upon this, she noticed her hand in his and pulled away from Guy.

"Our mutual friend is very persuasive," Guy sighed, "Marian, why didn't you tell me you knew Psyche when I first mentioned her?"

Marian blushed, and this was a color she was not prone to. It showed a deep sense of humility and true contrition for her silence. "I did not think it appropriate. I...I wanted to hear how you thought of her. Guy..." it was better to get straight to the point, "you must not hate Psyche for concealing me from you. It is partially my fault as well. If anything you should hate me for asking to be hidden from you."

"Hate? I do not hate Psyche, I could not."

"Oh..." That was an unexpected blow and Marian felt furious with herself. _He loves her, _she decided. Psyche had been wrong and too quick to judge. She would be beside herself upon hearing of Guy's true feelings.

"Psyche told me of how you met and how you traveled back to England together," Guy said.

"Yes," Marian nodded, "She is a dear friend to me."

Marian saw the brief smile upon Guy's lips and she felt a small stab of misery. Of course he should be happy that she and Psyche were friends. It would only esteem her more in his eyes. She had done her duty by her friend and found out the truth. Psyche would have no more reason to believe Guy out of all affection towards her after this. It was very hard to feel happy for her friend, when misery was gnawing at her heart.

"Marian?" Guy started, "Why are you-"

"Oh!" Marian felt the few tears on her cheek and quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand. She sniffed and tried to laugh. She cleared her throat, which had begun to burn with the weight of the tears still left within her. "Guy, I did not ask for you to meet with me just to speak of old friends. I need-no, Robin and I, need a way into the Castle to get at the ransom." She was very careful to emphasize Robin's name, to bind herself alongside him as a wife should to her husband.

If Guy seemed disturbed at the mention of his rival's name, Marian tried not to see it. Guy crossed his arms, shifting his stance from the relaxed to the self-defensive. His eyes narrowed with an attentive glare. Marian was at once reminded of the Guy of old; cold and suspicious. He spoke in low tones, almost with a wolfish growl in the back of his throat, "Psyche told me she was acting as Robin's spy within the Castle."

"You know of that?"

"Yes, although, she has never seemed like a likely spy for Robin Hood. I rather prefer thinking of her as one of your own. Don't look so concerned, Marian, Psyche is in no danger from me."

Psyche had confessed to being a spy for Robin Hood and still Guy defended her? Marian swallowed hard at this realization. He must truly and unquestionably love her to show such unwavering loyalty. "Yes...regardless of that...we were—_I _was counting on your support."

Guy stared at her, assessing her motives as he always did when she asked him for anything. At last he nodded, "You know you already have it." He held a hand up to stop her from speaking further. "I will guess what you are going to say. I will take Psyche to where the money is kept and I will get her out of the Castle through the tunnel. You may have Robin and anyone else among your outlaw friends waiting for us here."

"Then...then I suppose I should thank you..."

"Don't," Guy snapped, Marian was startled by the sharp tone in his voice, "I will of course have to flee England afterwards."

"I did not think of that..." He would have to leave behind all that he had tried to accomplish. No matter how he had gained what little power he had managed for himself, he had worked a lifetime to get it. She had not thought of what he would do now. "But you will have Psyche," surely there was some comfort in that for him?

Guy laughed, "Psyche? Why would I have her?"

"You...you love her do you not?"

"Marian, I am not in love with Psyche."

The sudden relief Marian felt blocked out any other thought or feeling she might have had upon hearing such a statement. She choked on words she tried to say to save face and covered her mouth with her hand. Her face grew hot with stopped tears, her lip trembled, but she had already nearly broke down once before him and she would not do so again. "Well then," she said, "you will have me."

"Things are not as they were back in the Holy Land, Marian, you do not need to bribe me. I gave you my word already." Guy looked insulted at her words and turned from her in disgust.

"This is not a bribe." What was she saying? She was married to Robin! Did she believe he would let her go, and to his enemy? Did she truly want to leave him? Robin was all that was safe and familiar in her world. He was her joy and her light, and had been her idol in her younger days. Yes, but that was so long ago, even longer now after her journey. Marian touched Guy's arm and he looked down at her, staring at her hand on his leather coat. He always gazed at such gestures with wonderment, even now in his aggravated state he could not hide the look of adoration in his eyes.

"Guy..." Marian sighed, feeling some of her resolve crumble, "I could not bear to see you go off alone, knowing that I would never see you again. I thought I could stand it. That saving England, and being Robin's wife was enough. It isn't, this is a mockery of what I wanted. This is nothing like how I thought it would be. And this is your fault! You have no right dominating my thoughts as you do. No right at all to make me jealous of my closest friend! You had no right to make her think that you could be hers!"

"Marian..."

"You're mine!" Marian screamed, before covering her mouth with her hand. She let her fingers pass over her lips before she let her hand fall back to her side. She smiled, an almost pleased expression that she had spoken so much of what was truly in her heart. "Guy of Gisborne, I love you, and I wish to be with you always if you will have me."

"If I will have you?" For a moment Guy looked as if the world up until that moment had been covered by a veil of darkness that had only just fallen away. The joy in his eyes dulled for a moment and he drew away from her, fighting the urge to hold her. "No. You are in love with Robin, you told me yourself."

She looked furious for having him mention her husband. "Guy, I shall always love Robin, I could not help that even if I wished to. But I have realized that I can not love him nearly enough, not in the way he so deserves, and that is not fair at all, for either of us. I have deceived you before, and I am more sorry than you could ever know, but you must believe me that when I tell you I love you I mean it. It has taken me a long time to realize this. Oh God," she laughed, "I'm in danger of sounding like some heroine in a bard's poem!"

"I never took you for a woman of such sentimentality," Guy retorted.

"Was that a joke, Guy?" Marian was both laughing and crying, "Are you teasing me?"

"I wouldn't dare." He reached for her and she for him. Marian gave in with a short laugh and a long, lingering kiss. Guy had only felt her succumb to such a passion once before, back at the Castle when he had thought her gone to a convent. After Guy had thought Marian dead he had only looked back upon that day with the realization that Marian had only acted a part in order to save Robin Hood's life. And yet, the kiss she had given him then was almost equally in affection to the one now. Perhaps she truly had cared for him far more than she had ever dared to admit to herself; he had not been wrong after all, she did love him.

"Did you have this planned?" Guy asked as they parted.

Marian smiled and shook her head. "I did not think I would be able to tell you. Truly, I should not have. I am risking not just our lives, but the lives of my friends as well. What do we do now?"

"We continue on as you have said," Guy said slowly, allowing his mind a chance to catch up with what had transpired. "Once the ransom money is with Hood, I will get to Locksley and gather supplies and money of our own. Meet me there."

Marian nodded her approval, already dreading walking back to the camp and facing Robin one last time, but she could not take back her words and she would not live another second that was a lie to both herself and to the outlaw she still cherished. Guy and Marian parted company; the plan already in motion.

* * *

Joshua was found lying atop his wagon. He was staring at the mass of clouds moving above him. Tuck stood below the wagon looking up at his former protege. "Joshua?" He called out; the young boy turned his head to look down, "May I have a word?"

Joshua knew Tuck wished to speak with him about his failed attempt to retrieve the ransom money. He sighed, Robin had wished to speak to him as well, but he had managed to evade his lecture. The boy rolled over off of the wagon, spinning his body in mid-air so that he landed on his feet, his knees bent low and his hand planted on the ground to steady himself as he straightened back up again. Tuck looked only mildly impressed.

"You know why I'm here," Tuck said.

Joshua winced, "Mirza," he muttered under his breath, "I don't want to-"

"I recall a young boy that could once steal a woman's necklace from about her very neck without ever giving the woman cause for alarm. A boy who could slip into estates and out again without anyone knowing he had been there. Now this self same boy stumbles foolishly into a guarded Castle and blunders his way out while nearly getting his accomplice captured in the process?" Tuck folded his arms as he waited for an answer from the boy.

"It has been a long time since I have attempted so large a crime," Joshua said with a shrug, "I do not get much exercise among these Players."

"I have brought food," Tuck pulled forth a satchel he had held concealed in his long robes. "Come, sit with me; eat, and we shall talk."

Joshua sat, leaning his back against the old wagon, his legs crossed. Tuck sat beside him and opened the satchel revealing a loaf of bread, some cheese, and two apples. The older thief tossed Joshua one of the apples and the boy caught it deftly, hardly moving his arm.

"Do you like living with the Players, Joshua?" Tuck asked, polishing the apple upon his sleeve before biting into it.

"Could not ask for more spirited or kinder folk," Joshua muttered as he tossed the apple back and forth from hand to hand.

"But?"

"But..." Joshua sighed, "Ever since we came to Nottingham I have felt the calling. I could always sing out to whatever I wished and it would come to me as if by magic. I listen to Robin Hood and his gang make their plans and I know I could help them, but they treat me like a child. They do not know who I am and what I can do for them. I thought to show them. I would have made it out fine if it hadn't been for Marian stepping in."

"Perhaps you must consider that it is no longer just yourself that you must think of." Tuck could see from the raised eyebrow on Joshua's face he did not quite understand his meaning, "Could you picture old Mariel running from the guards on your behalf? Or Psyche? Or little Gabrielle?"

"No."

"Then it is them you must consider before you place yourself in such danger again."

"But I was bred for this! I was your apprentice. Am I supposed to just be an acrobat for a group of traveling players all my life?" Joshua said angrily.

"Some ambitions must give way to new ones. Is there nothing you have here so important that you would ever stay?" Tuck's question could not be examined further, for at that moment Gabrielle walked by and waved at the two.

Noticing the seriousness of the conversation between them, Gabrielle tried to bow out, "I'm sorry, am I interrupting anything?"

"No, not a thing!" Joshua exclaimed.

Tuck glanced at the blushing Gabrielle and Joshua who was hastily clearing a space for her beside him. "Come join us," Tuck said cheerily, giving Joshua a wink that did not go unnoticed by the boy. "The more the merrier, I always say."

* * *

The damp cellars was no place for a woman of Mariel's age. She coughed and squinted her eyes in the gloom. The money was here, she was certain of that, but the row of barrels was daunting. She shuffled over to one and shook the barrel, upon hearing its liquid contents sloshing about she abandoned it in favor of the other. This would require all of her patience, luckily, no one was down in the dark with her and since she had long finished her chores about the Castle, no one would think to come looking for her. If they did she had the perfect excuse, a woman of her years, it was not uncommon for her to have gotten befuddled on her way and to have lost herself in her own walk. Mariel grimaced at the thought, she was certainly no addled old woman, but these uppity servants did seem to enjoy belittling her years. The nerve of them, age was a thing to be respected among her people. She would never understand these folk.

Mariel could not be sure how much time passed down in the dark of the cellars. She made her way round the rows of barrels, giving each a little shake and listening for the sound. She was beginning to lose hope and think that maybe this Sheriff had recently moved the location of the gold when, a clink of metal resounded in one of the barrels. Mariel doubted her senses for a moment and gave the barrel another shake. She chuckled to herself as she heard coins slap against the wood.

The door to the cellars came open at once and Mariel flew back away from the barrel with a nimbleness of a young girl. She huddled herself into corner, listening as the intruder walked down the steps, the crisp snap of metal echoed at the footfalls. Mariel tried to turn to duck down one of the rows closer to the far wall, but the intruder must have heard her rustling.

"Who's there?" Came the bark.

Mariel knew better than to answer, but this only seemed to infuriate the intruder more. "I heard you. Show yourself!"

"Please, my lord," Mariel said in a simpering voice, "there is no need to shout." She emerged, shuffling more than was necessary down the row towards the great shadow of a man.

"What are you doing down here?" The man asked impatiently.

"I am only an old woman, my lord," Mariel said, "I must have gotten turned about. I..."

"Do I know you?" The man asked, squinting hard in the dim light provided by the half cracked door.

"No, my lord. I should say not."

"I do know you," the man decided, "you are the woman with the Players in town."

"No, no, not I."

"Yes, it is you. I can recognize you even in this darkness. You are Mariel? Psyche has told me of you."

At the mention of her granddaughter's name, Mariel straightened herself and dropped the simpering tone in her voice. She fixed the man before her with a critical stare, trying to make out his features in the darkness. She sighed, a note of derision in her exhale of breath. "Clever boy," her voice crackled like desert heat, "You must be Sir Guy of Gisborne."

Guy nodded, "I believe I know why you are here. It is for the same reason I have come," and he explained the plan that he and Marian had spoken of.

Mariel frowned for a moment. "I found what you are looking for. It is there," she gestured to the barrel in question. "But it will take more than us two to get it out."

"Fetch Psyche and then get yourself out through the tunnel. Marian will have already gone to get Robin Hood and his gang. They will meet us on the other side. It can be done, Mariel, if you hurry. I was supposed to meet Psyche myself and explain it to her, but I thought it would be best to first secure the money. It is fortunate that I should have found you here. I believe she will listen to you more than she would be willing to hear anything from me."

"Have we come to that point already?" Mariel asked, "You have already overused Psyche's abilities? My, but things are moving faster than I had expected."

Guy did not understand the old woman's musings, but he urged her to be quick in her retrieval of the seer. Mariel made her way up the cellar stairs, glancing back to the shadowed man. "Since are connections are nearing an end, Sir Guy, I suggest you examine what is troubling you in your dreams."

"Are you a seer as well?" Guy asked, "you speak in riddles, just as Psyche does."

"Find what is hiding under her hood, it is the least you can do for yourself now that things will be at an end for you soon." Mariel's tone almost seemed regretful as she shook her head at the man.

"I don't understand," Guy could not help, but feel a chill strike at his heart at Mariel's cryptic words. "Wait," Guy called out as Mariel left to bring Psyche down to the cellars, "What ending?"

* * *

**A/N: We're actually heading towards the real end of the story at last! If only I could trust myself not to procrastinate. I'm a terrible person. I'll try to do better.  
**


End file.
